


Picture Perfect

by OfficialStarsandGutters



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Photographer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfficialStarsandGutters/pseuds/OfficialStarsandGutters
Summary: Photographer Aaron, Model Kevin AU.-Freelance photographer Aaron Minyard gets a gig doing fashion photography for a catalogue, where he meets Kevin Day, typical arrogant haughty model asshole. Or so Aaron thinks.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Aaron Minyard
Comments: 23
Kudos: 76





	Picture Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be for Kevin’s birthday, but it was also meant to be a cute one shot. It got away from me. So I’m a little late. 
> 
> Title from Picture Perfect by Every Avenue. I mean, it’s just a common phrase, but the song has fitting vibes.
> 
> The book Kevin is reading is: 100 Nasty Women of History: Brilliant, Badass and Completely Fearless Women Everyone Should Know by Hannah Jewell
> 
> Content warnings:  
> Disordered eating  
> Scars with reference to past abuse/implication of past self harm  
> Descriptions of violence  
> Explicit sexual content  
> Light dom/sub dynamics  
> Reference to parental and partner abuse

It’s not the most exciting job. It’s not passion fueled. It’s not something that will have him jumping out of bed in the morning, but it’s well paid, several appointments, and definite. Not to mention it’s so much better than fucking wedding photography. While his most stable income, Aaron hates dealing with wound up clients, and while he and Katelyn parted on amicable enough terms, stayed close friends, being around all the happy couples still makes his skin prickle. He tells himself he’s just grossed out at the sappiness and that it’s not an aching, burning jealous.

Aaron does not _need_ another person. Aaron does fine on his own. Aaron has always done fine on his own, and anyway, he is probably an unloveable kind of person. As many times as he’s been told the absence of love was Tilda’s issue and not his own, when the person supposed to love you the most; instinctively, genetically, when even they cannot, it’s hard to believe anyone will. Especially when the evidence keeps showing otherwise.

So, yeah. When he gets the job doing fashion portraits for a catalogue, it’s not a passion project. It’s not something that makes his pulse race. He’s not super excited to be working with potentially haughty models, but it’s better than what he could be doing, and it’s more than he usually makes in a month, which will free him some time to actually go take photos for himself. He almost forgets what it’s like to shoot for fun.

*

The worst part of working with models is not that he is the shortest person in the room. Aaron’s used to that. He’s often the shortest person in most rooms. It’s the fact that he’s the shortest person in the room by an _absurd_ amount.

He steps past a group of women in dresses and heels who tower well over a foot above him. One of them smiles at him, but it’s that kind of curled up at the side _aw, how cute_ smile you give a dog, so Aaron’s returned smile is only tight lipped politeness. They are all very pretty, but he can’t help but compare every girl to Katelyn, and they seldom match up.

It’s not that he still wants Katelyn. He did, for a while, but falling into the rhythm of their friendship has left him a lot happier than trying to navigate a romantic relationship. It’s just that she’s a relationship that meant a lot to him, a person who still does, and she’s set the bar. No one else has come near it yet, regardless of how tall they are. 

It’s busier than Aaron expected. He hasn’t done a lot of studio work, and the room is bustling with people. Make up artists, wardrobe designers, models. Someone’s already prepped a shooting area, and even the lights tower above Aaron. He holds a little tighter to his camera bag, feeling out of his depth but not wanting to let it show.

“Ah, hey, Aaron?” 

Aaron glances up as Jeremy Knox comes towards him. He’s holding a cup of steaming liquid and he awkwardly shifts it to shake Aaron’s hand, his hand warm from the cup. They met before when Aaron applied and showed his portfolio.

“Hey,” Aaron says. 

“You can go ahead and get set up. You got everything here? You need anything else?”

“Looks good,” Aaron says.

“Good, good. You want a drink, then? Tea, coffee…. uh, water? That’s all we got.”

“I’m good,” says Aaron, and he feels himself smiling without deciding to. Jeremy’s grin is contagious. “Thanks.”

“Alright! Cool, cool. Shout me if you need anything. At all. Okay? Cool.”

“Calm down.” A taller, dark haired man appears behind Jeremy. He puts a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and gently rubs it. Aaron watches the long fingers press against his shirt with a familiar intimacy, before he turns his head away, feeling like he’s imposing on a moment. “It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. First shoot I’ve done by myself. Just. Jitters.”

“That might be all the coffee,” the man says, and Jeremy laughs. He turns back to Aaron.

“Aaron, this is one of our models, and one of my best friends, Kevin Day,” Jeremy says, and Kevin ducks his head sheepishly at the second descriptor. “Kevin, this is Aaron Minyard, he’s gonna be running these shoots.”

“Hey,” Aaron says.

“Nice to meet you,” Kevin says, and holds out the hand that was just on Jeremy’s shoulder. Aaron stares at it for a second before he shakes, brief, his own hand looking small compared to Kevin’s. 

“I’m going to check on makeup, but remember, you need anything!”

“I’ll let you know,” Aaron says, even though he won’t. “He has way too much energy for this time of the morning.”

“I’ll say,” Kevin says, but he’s smiling affectionately after Jeremy. Then he catches himself with a little shake of his head, and his entire expression shifts. All the soft sweetness is gone, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the easy smile, the warmth. His eyes look flat and guarded, his smile carefully curated. A model billboard of what a person should look like. “Do you need any help setting up?”

Kevin’s voice even sounds distant and vague now, and Aaron bristles, hating the change, the dishonesty of it, the _fakeness_. 

“No, thank you.” His own voice comes out clipped and cold, and Kevin blinks like he’s surprised, before taking half a step back. He catches his left hand in his right and presses his thumb into the centre of the palm in quick pulses. 

“Okay,” he says, and takes another step back. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Aaron huffs out an exhale when he’s gone. Arrogant asshole. Probably thinks he’s better than Aaron because he’s all tall and handsome and strong, sharp lines. Aaron starts putting his camera together, but he keeps thinking of Kevin’s fingers on Jeremy’s shoulder, the affection in his smile.

Aaron does fine on his own, but sometimes he aches with wanting.

*

Aaron shrugs off his jacket. Between the bodies in the room, and the heat of all the lights they’ve set up for shooting, sweat is starting to dampen the back of his neck. He sets it aside and moves back to his tripod.

The day has passed relatively quickly. Jeremy buzzes around him, all jittery energy. He keeps talking about the _story_ of the shoot. Considering he’s just shooting models lounging in chairs or standing against walls, Aaron’s not sure exactly what story that is meant to be, but Jeremy keeps telling him how well he’s capturing it anyway, often touching the bare skin of Aaron’s arm as he does, so Aaron just smiles and nods along.

He shoots lots of women in dresses. All collarbones and curves of shoulder, delicate calves and ankles, flashes of thigh and dips of cleavage. Maybe in another scenario he’d find himself more interested, but as it is, his brain is too focused on shadows and glare and composition.

The men in their shirts and suit jackets are much the same. He sees Kevin having some makeup applied, bizarrely, to his wrist, before he comes out with a relaxed and easy smile. His shirt collar is open, the sleeves rolled up, and Jeremy directs him into a chair with his legs spread. Aaron hates how effortless he makes it all look. He’s good, for a male model, too. He doesn’t have any unnecessary ego. Follows direction without argument. Doesn’t bristle if Aaron asks him to shift to more traditionally feminine poses, just smiles and says: “like this?”

He thinks if they had the freedom to do something more exciting, he could really have a lot of fun shooting with Kevin Day. 

Then he remembers the fake smile and the flat eyes and shakes that thought away.

*

The second day he’s in shooting is casual wear. Sundresses, flannel shirts, dungarees, crop tops, jeans. The models are made up to look more natural, in a way no human face without make up would ever look _naturally_. He sees Kevin before makeup this time, and notices the dark spot on his face.

“Hey,” Kevin says. He’s still easily handsome, but Aaron can see now he’s got dark circles beneath his eyes, his lips are chapped, the lower one bitten raw, and, most obviously, there’s a dark chess piece tattooed beneath his left eye. A queen. 

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo,” Aaron says, because it’s obvious he’s staring, so he might as well address it.

“Ah. Yeah.” Kevin’s fingers go to his cheek. “They do a good job of covering it, huh?”

“Bit ballsy. Face tattoo for a model.”

“Uh. Yeah. It- decision of my youth,” he says, rubbing his fingers over the tattoo. He hasn’t looked at Aaron since he first mentioned it. 

“Does it make it harder to get jobs?”

“Some, yeah. I’m lucky Jeremy got me an in on this one.” Kevin’s fingers are still rubbing at the tattoo as if he could rub it off his face. Aaron’s eyes narrow slightly at the movement, and Kevin only seems to realise. He quickly folds his arms instead, hands curling into fists against his biceps. “And he knows some people in the industry.”

“Ah. Connections.”

“Yeah. Uh, I should go-“ he inclines his head towards makeup. 

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Kevin’s smile is more a grimace and Aaron literally has no idea how to take him. He shifts between hot and cold so quickly, Aaron can’t tell which is real. He’s a strange match for Jeremy’s cheerful demeanour, but, hey, they say opposites attract. 

He shoots the feminine clothes first, then the men. Once he comes back from makeup, Kevin looks just as good in jeans as he did in a suit, like clothes just conform to make his body look good. Aaron, who struggles to find pants he doesn’t have to cuff the legs of, feels a hot flash of irritation. It’s not just Kevin - the other models are handsome, too - but Kevin is the one that is so strikingly _opposite_ to Aaron. He’s tall, dark, lean but muscular, thick thighed and thicker assed. Everything about him seems so beautifully proportioned. He’s an excellent model, but as a person, Aaron hates him a little. Envy is a bad colour on him, but he insists on wearing it anyway.

*

They have a break in the evening and Aaron hovers by the small catering table set out for them, eying up his choices. He should probably eat a sandwich, something substantial, but he’s craving sweets so he grabs a cookie instead. Kevin is standing nearby, also looking the table over. Aaron takes a bite of his cookie.

“These are good,” he says. Kevin glances towards him, to the cookie, and his expression is… weird. It doesn’t quite make it to grimace, but there’s something unhappy there in the way the eyes tighten at the edges.

“Ah. Not much of a sweet person,” he says, and Aaron huffs quiet disbelief. 

“You don’t like sweet stuff?”

“It’s not- It’s not that I don’t like it. I just don’t eat much of it.”

Aaron’s eyebrows climb towards his hairline as he drags his eyes down over Kevin’s frame. Kevin, all lean muscles and narrow waist. Kevin, built in the shape of a fucking Dorito. He does not really strike Aaron as someone who has to watch his figure.

Kevin tenses beneath his scrutiny. He rubs his hand down one arm, and only because Aaron’s already watching him does he notice the subtle movement of Kevin’s thumb nail scratching back and forth against the bump of his wrist bone, of the skin raw beneath it. Kevin clears his throat. 

“I’ll probably just wait until after to eat,” he says, voice a lot quieter. He gives Aaron a smile that has no hint of truth to it, and slides away without another word. Aaron’s stomach feels heavy with the weight of guilt, despite the fact he didn’t even say anything.

*

“Aaron,” Jeremy says. “Could I ask a favour. Big favour. Would be really helping me. I’d pay you for your time, of course, obviously, job related favour, not just a personal favour, we’re probably not there yet.”

Aaron waits. He’s learned sometimes interrupting Jeremy can send him off his track of thought and it’ll take even longer to get to the point. He’s used to Andrew’s medicated manic rambling, so he just carefully screws on his lens as he waits, watching Jeremy with patience.

“There- oh, shit, I have to call Alvarez about- I need to make a note of that before I forget- one sec.” Jeremy opens his phone, another thing he does frequently, and quickly types something into the notes app. Aaron waits for him to finish.

“Favour?” It’s a soft prompt. Jeremy’s eyes are briefly vacant before his face brightens as he remembers.

“Right, yes, favour. Could you stay a couple of hours later today? Kevin’s not able to make it in until this evening, and it would be easier than trying to schedule him around other shifts, if you could, I mean if you have anything planned that’s totally fine I don’t expect- but, yeah, I would really appreciate it if you’re free.”

“Sure,” Aaron says, and forces a pleasant smile. Of course Kevin Day would get special privileges. Of course when you’re fucking the boss, why should you have to come to work on time like everyone else? He’s annoyed. Not at Jeremy, it feels like it might be impossible to be annoyed at Jeremy, so all of it goes to Kevin instead. 

“Thank you, thank you, you’re a star. A little golden star. I appreciate this so much, Aaron. I’m sorry for the short notice - I meant to ask you when we started and with everything happening it completely just- whoosh.” He sweeps a hand over his head. “Slipped my mind, and then when I remembered I was like: oh no, this is so last minute!”

“It’s fine,” Aaron says, smiling for real now. He’s never met someone who exudes as much feel good energy as Jeremy does. It’s hard to stay in his little black cloud when Jeremy is beaming at him bright as sunlight. “I don’t mind, honestly.”

He minds a little, but there’s no way he can admit that to Jeremy’s bright expression. 

“Light of my life.” Jeremy presses a kiss to his temple before he strides off to do something else, and Aaron feels a treacherous blush all the way to his toes. He splutters quietly to himself before hiding behind his camera.

Yeah. Maybe, definitely, minds a whole lot less now.

*

Aaron’s tired. Aaron’s hot from being under the lights for hours. Aaron is feeling a little bit shit about himself after spending a day shooting models lounging around in their underwear, the set today comprised of a big bed, lots of pillows, a chaise chair. Maybe it’s not just the lights leaving him hot under the collar.

He’s sitting on the chaise now. Almost everyone is gone, except for Laila, who has stayed late to do Kevin’s make up. Aaron flicks absently through his shots for the day until he hears footsteps.

“Hey. Sorry for keeping you guys,” Kevin says. He shrugs off a backpack and leaves it on the floor under the coat hooks. He’s wearing glasses. Aaron stares at him.

“You’re gonna have to take those off for me, babe,” Laila says. Kevin blinks at her. “The glasses.”

“Oh, shit, I forgot I was wearing them.” Kevin takes his glasses off and crouches to put them in a case in his bag. He rubs his eyes when he stands again. He looks exhausted. Aaron wonders what he has to be so tired about when he couldn’t even come to work on time. “I ran out once the exam was done. Forgot to take them off.”

He laughs as he flops down into the chair beside Laila’s workstation. She gently smooths his hair back.

“Exam?” Curiosity prompts the word out of Aaron.

“Ah, yeah.” Kevin’s eyes find his in the reflection of the mirror. “I had an exam today, that’s why I’m so late.”

“For what?”

“Uh. College?”

“You’re in college?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t this- I thought this was what you did.”

“I just model to help pay my way,” Kevin says, and Aaron is thrown, this new information crumbling the image of Kevin he’s pieced together in his head.

“What are you studying?”

“History,” Kevin says, with the kind of smile you can’t hide, the kind of smile born from passion. Aaron can tell he loves it. 

“Huh,” he says, trying to rearrange his idea of Kevin Day around this new information.

“How do you think it went, babe?” Laila asks, as she starts layering makeup over Kevin’s tattoo. Aaron pretends to be looking at his photos again, but he’s listening to the rise and fall of Kevin’s voice, to the heated rush of his words, to the lengthy rambling about his essay topic. Aaron’s not quite sure what it was, but Kevin’s mentioned Ancient Greek philosophy at least twice. He doesn’t fully understand half of what Kevin’s saying, but the sheer passion is endearing.

This must be the side of Kevin Jeremy loves. Aaron shifts his camera on his lap. Subtly zooms in. Focuses on Kevin’s reflection. He snaps a few shots, capturing Kevin in the mirror with his face upturned towards Laila, his eyes bright, his hands gesturing, his smile wide and genuine; crooked, dorky, a far throw from his perfected modelling smiles. Aaron looks at the photo for a long moment, until a shadow falls over him. 

Aaron flattens the camera screen to his chest, feeling like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. He looks up at Kevin with a glare. Kevin tilts his head, curious expression suggesting he’s said something that Aaron failed to answer.

“What?”

“I said I’m just gonna get changed.”

“Okay.”

“And I am off,” Laila says, quickly packing up her kit. “My beautiful girlfriend is waiting for me, and it’s pizza night, boys. Cannot wait. You two have fun.”

She blows a kiss at Aaron, since Kevin has already stepped behind a rail of clothing to get changed.

“Have a good one,” Kevin says. 

“I will.”

“Bye,” Aaron says, and gives her a little wave. Then it’s just him and Kevin in the quiet of the studio. 

“I’m afraid you might have to do some airbrushing on these,” Kevin says. Aaron glances up as he comes out in a pair of fucking lace edged briefs, which Aaron was not expecting, and his brain whites out with surprised arousal. No, just surprise. It’s just surprise.

Fuck. It’s a little bit arousal.

“What?” Aaron says dumbly, because what the fuck is Kevin talking about? He’s all beautiful brown skin, and flat planes, muscle subtle but distinctive beneath the skin, hips a sharp V that Aaron’s gaze gets caught on and he has to turn his whole head away. 

“Laila just did my face, so you’ll have to… uh, photoshop, or whatever.” Kevin’s circling his right thumb into his left palm when Aaron looks back at him. At Aaron’s confused glance, he clarifies: “The scars.”

Kevin’s fingers move over his torso, and it’s only when Aaron’s attention is directed to them does he see faded lines of scars. Once he sees the first couple, he sees them everywhere. Lines on Kevin’s chest, his stomach, his upper thighs. Thin, straight lines. The kind of lines a blade leaves. Thinner, more subtle versions of the marks Andrew’s armbands hide.

“Oh,” Aaron says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Kevin smiles, but it’s all tight at the edges, nervous energy. He shifts his weight to the other foot and looks away from Aaron. Aaron looks at the long line of his neck, tells himself he’s just avoiding staring at the scars.

“You ready?”

“Just tell me how you want me,” Kevin says, and despite the fact he’s been overly hot all day, a shiver runs through Aaron. 

“Let’s start on the bed.”

“Gladly,” Kevin says, and flops onto the bed with a tired sigh. Then he turns on his back and shuffles to sit against the excess of pillows. The briefs do not hide much and Aaron’s throat feels inexplicably dry. 

“You suit glasses,” Aaron says as he’s setting up his tripod again, because the tension of Kevin mentioning his scars is still thick between them, and he wants to disperse it so Kevin will relax more into the shoot.

“Ah, they’re just for reading. I don’t even wear them most of the time. Probably should, but…” he shrugs. 

“You don’t like them?”

“My ex always said- uh. I didn’t look good in them.”

“I disagree with your ex,” Aaron says, voice level. He can sense from Kevin’s tone that there was more to that comment. Kevin laughs, a little forced, a little sharp edged. His thumb pulses against his left palm. 

“Thanks.” It's soft spoken but disbelieving. Aaron purses his lips, but lets it go. 

“Prop one of your legs up for me and lean back on your elbow.”

“Like this?” As always, Kevin shifts into position obediently, and _what_ a position it is. Aaron’s face flushes and he hates himself for it, because this is work, and he should just be focusing on that, but it’s so different with an empty studio, with just the two of them, with Kevin’s soft words so loud in the silence between them. He’s never shot anyone one on one before. It feels more intimate than he was expecting.

“That’s perfect,” Aaron said, and Kevin’s eyes hood in the picture of lazy pleasure, the perfect expression. Aaron takes a few shots before Kevin smiles. “No, can you go back to the other expression.”

“What other expression?”

“The, uh… the bedroom eyes one.”

“I wasn’t-?” Kevin’s eyebrows raise with some alarm. “I, uh, I wasn’t intentionally- what expression?”

“You wanna see?”

“Kind of.” Kevin rolls out of the bed and Aaron brings up the photographs on the viewfinder. Kevin leans over his shoulder, and Aaron can feel the heat of him even with the few inches of air between him. He zooms in on Kevin’s face. “What the fuck was I doing?”

“I don’t know, but it looks good.”

“I’m not sure I can do that again on command.”

“That’s a shame.” Aaron looks over his shoulder, and Kevin’s crouched down so his head is almost at his height. He turns his gaze to Aaron, pupils blown wide in his too green eyes, and Aaron swallows. 

“Uh.” Kevin steps back suddenly, squeezing his left hand with his right. “I can try.”

He positions himself back on the bed and gives Aaron a look that is pure sin. Eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted, head bowed forward so he’s looking through his lashes. It’s not the same as before. This one is less passive pleasure, more purposeful challenge. Aaron snaps a few shots anyway. 

“Can you kneel? Maybe spread your legs a bit further.” Aaron’s voice is thicker than it was a moment ago. He feels kind of pervy, directing Kevin around like this, in a way he wouldn’t if there were other people present. “Yeah, just like that.”

Kevin’s eyes flicker again, a half second of the look from before, but then he’s biting his lip and looking at the camera with sultry eyes. Aaron forces himself to think of angle, lighting, how he’s still drawing attention to the product even with Kevin’s gaze burning out of the image like a challenge.

“Okay, you can change into the next ones.” 

Kevin smiles easily and hops up to go do that. Aaron grabs a cup of water while he’s waiting and downs half of it in one go. Kevin comes back in another pair of briefs, thin sides high on his hips, and Aaron almost spits his water. After shooting men in boxers all day, he really wasn’t expecting the wardrobe they’ve left for Kevin.

“They, uh, this… is different from most of what I’ve shot today.”

“Hm?”

“The… clothes.”

“Oh.” Kevin slips a thumb under the elastic on his hip, pulls it out and lets it twang back against his skin. Aaron’s heart twangs with it. “Yeah. I guess it’s easier to leave it for me. I don’t mind wearing it. The last ones were actually pretty nice.”

“Uh. Yeah,” Aaron says, and actually? Fuck his fair skin. Fuck his complexion. Fuck the fire of the blush he can feel burning the tips of his ears right now. 

“I guess maybe some of the models might worry about the threat to their fragile masculinity.”

“Not you?”

Kevin laughs as he climbs back onto the bed. It’s brief, but a real laugh, his face all softened and warm, eyes crinkled, teeth visible. Aaron’s fingers itch for his camera but he knows he wouldn’t make it on time to catch that.

“Not that attached to my masculinity,” Kevin says. “Or any concept of gender.”

“What?”

“I’m nonbinary.” Kevin smiles, easy, leans back on his hands, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes as he watches for Aaron’s reaction. All Aaron has to offer him in response is confused blinking.

“Non what-y?”

“Non binary. I don’t feel attached to binary gender expression. Like, I’m socially assigned a guy, but I don’t really _feel_ like a guy. And not in the bullshit toxic masculinity culture of: oh I’m not a real man! I just… don’t feel any real connection to it.”

“But you’re… so, wait, you’re not a guy then?”

“I mean, I’m happy using he/him pronouns, and it’s not a big deal how people perceive me. For me personally, it’s my identity, so it’s a personal thing, but like… yeah. Jeremy knows I won’t have any complaints about clothes or poses or stuff that are more- I hate to say feminine, because it undermines the fluidity of gender expression, but based on cishet expectations: traditionally feminine.”

“Cishet?” Aaron, who really thought he reached the height of his LGBT+ education with both Nicky and Andrew’s coming out, or rather, their just being out, since neither of them said it to him in as many words, feels madly out of his depth.

“Uh. Yeah. So cis, like cisgender, like identifying with the gender you were assigned at birth? And het is heterosexual.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, still feeling a little lost. Kevin raises a brow. “Okay. Should we start with you on your knees again?”

Kevin laughs, just brief, but his eyes soften and he shifts up onto his knees.

“Maybe hold the pillow up like you’re gonna hit someone? Jeremy likes it when we’re telling a-“

“Story,” Kevin says at the same time as him. Aaron grins. Kevin grins back, then hoists one of the pillows above his head, turning his body into a long, taut line. He bares his teeth in a vicious grin, and Aaron feels the base of his stomach tight and hot. He snaps some shots, has Kevin pose a few other ways, wonders with a twisted feeling of confused envy how much Jeremy is going to love these pictures.

Kevin goes to get changed again and Aaron has sent himself down a tortuous mental path of imagining Kevin and Jeremy together, which is really an image he doesn’t need, thanks, especially if he’s intending on not bursting into flames. An intention that is really undermined when Kevin comes back to him in a fucking _thong_. Aaron has to bite his tongue not to sob-laugh at the cosmic joke his life has become this evening. 

“Don’t laugh! I know it’s ridiculous,” Kevin says, biting back his own grin at Aaron. Aaron definitely was not laughing _at Kevin_ with the unfair swell of his ass and the sharp lines of his hip bones, but at Kevin’s expression a few giggles escape. “Stop!”

But Kevin is laughing now, too, and so Aaron laughs harder. Both of them giggling. Kevin touches Aaron’s arm, and Aaron leans forward, struggling to catch a breath. His fingers press against the heated skin of Kevin’s abdomen and suddenly it’s not as funny anymore.

“Sorry,” Aaron says, pulling his hand away. Kevin’s smile is still easy, the corners of his eyes a little damp with mirth.

“S’okay.” His own fingers trail down Aaron’s arm before he steps away, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. 

“Maybe the chaise for this one?”

“Yes, sir,” Kevin says, automatic, thoughtless. Then he gives Aaron a half terrified side glance Aaron doesn’t fully understand. “Uh, I mean, sure.”

He has Kevin lounge on the chaise, one knee propped up on it, the other leg dangling off. Has him hold a prop book and pretend that, oh, lounging around reading in his skimpy underwear is just a common occurrence, you know? The calf muscles of his folded leg are tense and beautiful. His thighs are muscular definition coated in a layer of softness. Aaron focuses on his legs so he doesn’t look any higher. 

They have three more wardrobe changes, but they’ve slipped into their rhythm by then, Aaron isn’t distracted by the tension as much. He bosses Kevin around, and Kevin moves willingly for him, sometimes making flirty quips that make Aaron’s stomach flip. He ignores that. Flips Kevin off or tells him more firmly how to pose. Kevin’s dreamy pleased expression flickers back a few times, but never stays. Aaron’s glad he got the photos of it the first time. 

“That should be enough. All done for tonight.”

“Ugh.” Kevin allows himself to sink back into the bed. He hugs one of the pillows to his chest. “You think I could just crash out here? I’m exhausted, and this bed is like, so comfy. Have you tried it?”

“No.”

“C’mere.”

“No.”

“Hey, there’s no one else here. I won’t tell if you don’t.”

After a quiet moment of hesitation, Aaron crosses and sits on the other side of the bed. He toes off his shoes, then leans back into it. The bed is extremely comfortable. So soft, but not lacking in firmness. He sinks into it a little, and his body hums happily at the sensation.

“This is a good bed,” he says, and Kevin grins like it’s his own personal victory.

“Right?” He rolls on his side, watching Aaron on his back. Aaron forces sticky, heavy eyes open to look at him. “Sorry you had to stay late because of me.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron says, and it is. He’s not annoyed anymore. Kevin’s made him laugh so many times, a warm feeling in his chest he wouldn’t have found sitting alone at home. “I hope your exam went well.”

“Me, too. I was stress studying all of last night.”

“You sound like you know what you’re talking about. When you were telling Laila. You sounded like you love it.”

“I do,” Kevin says, that smile he can’t hide sliding across his face again. He flops onto his back and folds an arm behind his head. His other hand traces distracting shapes on his still bare stomach. “I’m hoping to go on and get my Masters. Maybe… maybe a PHD, at some point. I’d like to be a professor, I think.”

He says it quietly, like he’s admitting something secret and precious. Aaron’s chest aches. He holds his breath, afraid to shatter the delicate, fragile trust Kevin is building between them. It’s bizarre to him now he ever thought Kevin was some dumb, arrogant model. 

“You’ll have to start wearing your glasses more, then,” Aaron says. “For the professor aesthetic.”

Kevin laughs. His head turns towards Aaron and his smile is so soft, so sweet, and Aaron’s chest aches again, fiercer this time, his heartbeat an erratic and confusing flutter against his ribs. 

“I should let you get home,” Kevin says, finally pushing himself up off the bed. “Let me get changed and I’ll help with anything you need to clear up.”

“It’s just my camera, it won’t take me long,” Aaron says. He watches Kevin’s back as he crosses the room. The bumps of his spine, the shifting of his shoulder blades beneath his skin, the deep dimples on his low back. Aaron closes his eyes and takes a long inhale. He exhales a sigh and stands to pack up.

*

The thing is, it’s not like he’s never looked at another man with some level of interest. He’s always recognised their ability to be attractive. Recognised the possibility for anyone to be attractive, but it’s not a thought he’s pursued beyond that. He’s never had a romantic interest in a man, never had the giddy feeling in his stomach that Kevin gives him.

Then, Kevin isn’t really a man (he’d done extensive Google research on what non binary means when he got home), and how many girls did he ever have that feeling for, anyway? Flirtations of his youth were more for the sake of the experience than any true longing. He’s heading for his mid-twenties and Katelyn is the only real relationship he’s had. That’s probably a little sad.

Not as sad as crushing hard on someone he can’t have. Then that was Katelyn at the start, too. Maybe Aaron only likes people that he can’t have. Maybe that’s another burden he has to bear from Tilda breaking him down. Unloveable and unloving. 

*

“Do you know some tall guy with a weird face tattoo?” Andrew asks. Aaron looks up from where he’s definitely editing out Kevin’s scars and definitely not just staring at his soft dreamy expression of pleasure.

“Ah, yeah. He’s one of the models on the shoot I’ve been working. Why?”

“Well.” Andrew grins; broad, triumphant. His eyes stay hollow and flat though. Aaron leans back in his chair. “He might look a little rough next time you see him.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Andrew.”

“He touched me.”

“And then you-?”

“Flipped him over my shoulder and punched him in the face.”

“Jesus Christ, Andrew.”

“Self defence.”

“That’s not- how did he touch you that warranted that?”

“Grabbed my shoulder.”

Aaron presses a hand to his face. He massages his fingers against his eyelids. He tries to silently count but he’s too angry to focus, too exhausted. One part of his life Andrew had nothing to do with and he’s still managed to crash in and leave the damage for Aaron to pick up.

“I’m just telling you so it’s not a surprise,” Andrew says, and why else? It’s not like he has ever apologised for hurting anyone. Even in their therapy sessions, it’s something he won’t budge on. Justifies himself in every act of violence, his own moral code jagged and sharp and unyielding. Aaron has to try and fit himself around it, try and not let the sharp edges cut him up too badly. 

“Okay,” he says, too tired to argue. He doesn’t have Kevin’s number, but he has Jeremy’s, so he texts him to ask for Kevin’s. Jeremy, bless him, doesn’t even ask why. Just sends the contact info through.

_I’m so sorry if my twin actually punched you in the face._

_This is Aaron, by the way._

**I guessed that as you are identical to the man who did in fact punch me in the face today**

_I cannot stress how sorry I am_

**It’s okay it’s not like it was your fault**

_Are you okay?_

**I’ve had worse**

_That’s not an answer._

**I’m fine**

**Thanks for checking**

*

As it turns out, Kevin is not really fine. The next time Aaron sees him he’s sporting an ugly bruise beneath his left eye, the colour of it overlapping his tattoo. Aaron makes a beeline through the other models and people milling around to where Kevin is sitting at a makeup station.

“You said you were okay.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Pretty nasty looking nothing.”

“I’ll survive.” 

Aaron’s fingers lift, hover. Kevin flinches before he’s even close to touching him. He lowers his hand.

“Andrew is… a lot. I’m sorry you had to meet like that.”

“Well, I shouldn’t have grabbed him, to be fair. He just- headphones in. I thought you couldn’t hear me. Didn’t know you had a twin. Funny misunderstanding.”

“Did he really throw you over his shoulder?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s mad fucking strong.”

Aaron sighs and slumps down in a chair next to Kevin. Kevin smiles and bumps the side of his foot against Aaron’s.

“Look, it hurt when it happened, but it _is_ kind of a funny story, and I’m mostly good now. The bruising will fade. I’ve had worse.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Yeah, well…” Kevin looks away from him. “You’ve seen the scars.”

Aaron hadn’t wanted to _assume_. He’d thought it odd that Kevin had scars in so many places, but they’d been so similar to Andrew’s, he still thought there was a strong chance Kevin had given himself them. Hearing confirmation it was someone else makes him feel queasy. He presses his foot back against Kevin’s, and sees a brief flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth. 

“It’s fine,” Kevin says again, even though it really shouldn’t be. “I don’t want it to make things weird.”

“Okay,” Aaron says, because he can’t say no to Kevin after that confession. 

He stays with his foot pressed to Kevin’s, with his shin touching Kevin’s calf, until he’s summoned into position. He touches beneath Kevin’s bruising, beneath the dark shape of his tattoo, just ever so lightly with the back of his index finger. Kevin’s lashes flutter. Then Aaron steps away and gets to work.

*

It’s an activewear day. Lots of sports bras and leggings and zip up hoodies. Hair tied back and bandanas in place and everyone spritzed with water to give the dewy appearance of sweat, while they’re all still perfectly made up to look _pretty_. When Kevin comes on to the set, there’s no sign of his black eye. Laila has covered it seamlessly.

Kevin in Lycra leggings might usually be a terrible distraction to Aaron, but as it is he just keeps thinking about what he said. About the fact someone gave him those scars. He wonders who. If Kevin was unlucky enough to have a parent pieced together from rage and anger and bitterness like him, or if it was someone else. The ex who didn’t like his glasses, maybe.

Whoever it is, Aaron wants to hit them. Repeatedly. Maybe until his hand aches. He understands, a little, maybe, in that moment, Andrew’s rage.

He shoots in a daze. Directing models into position on autopilot. Aim, shoot, adjust, repeat. Then Kevin’s in his viewfinder and Aaron’s chest does a tight, suffocating, aching kind of thing that it is hard to swallow around. Kevin, who poses easily for him and smiles easier, whose right thumb pushes against his left hand in pulses between poses, whose wrist bone Aaron now knows is raw from his nail constantly scratching against it. 

Aaron swallows, tells Kevin how to stand, dismisses him when he’s done, but the tightness in his chest doesn’t ease. It’s a sharp and jagged feeling, rougher than his anger. He bites the inside of his cheek hard and forces himself to focus back on work.

Aaron dawdles, when they’re done. Makeup and wardrobe are already gone, models filtering out, but Kevin and Jeremy are still chatting away - or Kevin is nodding as Jeremy talks a mile a minute - across the room as Aaron packs up his gear. He’s pulling his camera bag over his shoulder as a tall, dark haired man pokes his head in the door. He spots Jeremy and Kevin and smiles, crossing over to them. Jeremy turns to him with a grin, and the man leans down and kisses him firmly on the mouth.

Aaron almost drops his bag.

He looks to Kevin, who seems completely unaffected by the display of affection. Kevin glances Aaron’s way and smirks as if to say _this, right?_ Aaron’s brow furrows in confusion. Kevin inclines his head for him to come over, so Aaron crosses to them slowly.

“This is Jean,” he says, as Jeremy and Jean break apart. 

“Ah, yeah, you guys haven’t been introduced.” Jeremy’s cheeks are flushed a happy pink as he slides his hand into Jean’s. “This is Jean, like Kevin said, Jean Moreau, and this is our photographer, Aaron Minyard.”

“The one you picked?”

“Yes! And he’s been excellent. I knew he was the right one to fight for,” Jeremy says, beaming, and Aaron flusters under the praise. He accepts the hand Jean holds out to him and shakes it briefly. 

“Moreau as in the brand?”

“Yes.”

“You designed some of these clothes?”

“Oui.” Jean smiles, and Jeremy grins bright and proud beside him. 

“They look great.”

“Thanks. Jeremy has nothing but praise for your work, as well.”

“Yeah, Aaron’s great. Even makes me look good,” Kevin says, his hand rubbing briefly on the back of Aaron’s neck. Goosebumps rise on Aaron’s skin. 

“That’s not hard,” Aaron says, at the same time Jean says: “You always look good,” and Jeremy simply says: “Kevin!” They all laugh. 

“We were going to grab dinner, Aaron. Nothing fancy, but do you wanna join us?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Please. You’d be saving me from third wheeling,” Kevin says, and Aaron is so, so grateful he’s answered his unspoken question that he could kiss him. Then he has the terrifying and absolutely electric thought that maybe he _could_ kiss Kevin, now he knows he’s not dating Jeremy.

“Ah, okay, then,” Aaron says, and as they make their way out, he tries to affect complete nonchalance as he says: “Are you always the third wheel?”

“Pretty much,” Kevin says.

“Though sometimes it feels like he’s more between us,” Jean says, with a little eye roll. Kevin bumps their shoulders. Jean flicks his nose. Kevin bites at his fingers, and they end up scuffling against the wall of the hallway.

“Like right now,” Jeremy says, and sighs woefully. The twinkling amusement in his eyes kind of undermines the effect. Aaron watches Kevin and Jean scuffle and realises that even though it looks like a lot of rough and tumble, they’re both gentle with each other, cautious, never hitting too hard or pressing too far. He smiles when Jean gives Kevin a little shove back , and Kevin gives up and falls back in place beside Aaron again. He says something sharp in French and Jean flips him off.

“You speak French?” Aaron looks up at Kevin, surprised once again. He shouldn’t be at this point. Kevin is not the simple outline of a person he first believed. Kevin is a complicated tangle of truths, some of which feel they should not exist together, overlapping and mingling. It would take years to untangle them, and even then they would be changing, shifting, wrapping around each other in new ways. He’s starting to think he could spend a lifetime with Kevin and still find surprises. He’s starting to think he might want to.

“I do. Not as fluently as Jean, but enough to get by.”

Aaron finds out more about Kevin on their way to dinner. He finds out that Kevin dated Jean, briefly, and that he’d had a huge crush on Jeremy. Aaron can’t really hold that one against him. 

“So how did this happen, then?”

“Well, Jean and I realised we were better as friends. We’d sort of fallen together in the wake of… well, we both dated my shitty ex.”

“Our shitty ex.”

“Yeah, and Jean helped get me on my feet again after that.”

Jean says something darkly in French that Aaron doesn’t have to understand to know is a fierce swear. 

“It wasn’t, like, a rebound, but we just… eh.”

“Thanks, Kevin. That’s charming,” Jean says.

“Dude, you broke up with me.”

“No, I think, if you remember correctly, it was a mutual agreement. I just started the conversation.”

“Ergo, you commenced the breakup.”

Jean says something low and teasing in French and Kevin tells him to fuck off in English.

“Anyway, I knew Jeremy through the lacrosse team. We started hanging out more. Then the guy that dumped me steals my new crush. My life is a tragedy.”

“Hey, you should have manned up and kissed me first. Your loss, baybee.” Jeremy grins. Jean pulls him closer and kisses his temple. 

“Now I’m the eternal third wheel.”

“Not tonight, you’re not. Aaron’s balancing this car out.”

“Kinda feels like we’re just a joint third wheel,” Aaron says, and Kevin laughs. His hand touches Aaron’s low back, just lightly, just for a second, and Aaron feels warm all over. 

*

They go for ramen, and Kevin sits and meticulously documents all his calories into his FitBit app. Aaron knows a lot of fitness conscious people calorie count, but Kevin does it with an almost obsessive detail, trying to work out all the individual ingredients to document. Aaron realises now his issue with sweets was probably more than careful eating, and he feels guilty again. He presses his foot lightly to Kevin’s under the table. Kevin glances up and gives him a confused smile, but presses his foot back against Aaron’s. 

Aaron often feels out of place in groups. He doesn’t have a history of solid socialisation. Besides Katelyn, the people he's closest to are his family, and they’re not exactly a prime example of communication, but he finds he slots into Kevin’s friend group with minimum discomfort. Jeremy tends to fill any silence, and Kevin bounces off of him with ease. Jean is a little quieter, but when he does comment it’s usually with a cunning wit that has Aaron grinning. 

They walk together for a while afterwards, until Jean and Jeremy have to cut off and change direction. Both of them hug Kevin. Jeremy hugs Aaron, and Jean shakes his hand again, and he’s feeling very fussed over by the time it’s just him and Kevin beneath the street lamps. They pass from shadow stepping stones into cool pools of yellow light, Aaron having to take two steps for every one of Kevin’s.

“Jean seems nice.”

“Jean’s the best,” Kevin says, smiling fondly. “They both are, but Jean… Jean was my rock for a while. I’m not sure I’d still be here without him.”

“God, your ex fucking sucked,” Aaron says, with more feeling than he meant to. Kevin blinks at him, surprised.

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“I know enough.”

“You look extremely like your brother when you’re angry,” Kevin says. Aaron puffs his cheeks out in annoyance.

“We’re twins, dickhead, we always look alike.”

“Well, now you’ve sort of shifted into angry Pomeranian.”

“Angry-? Hey!” Aaron glares as Kevin laughs. He pokes him in the side and Kevin giggles, shifts away. Aaron arches one eyebrow. The amusement fades fractionally from Kevin’s face. He raises his hands to stop Aaron, but he’s not quick enough. Aaron’s already pressed close enough to draw his fingers up Kevin’s side. Kevin screams, honest to God _screams_ , and flails away from him. 

“Stop!” It’s half yell, half breathless laugh. “Please.”

Aaron does, but he’s still grinning, sharp edged. 

“Ticklish. That’s good to know.”

“No, it’s not! Delete that immediately.”

“Nope, it’s stored away forever now, sorry.”

“I can’t be held accountable for what I do if you tickle me. I am no longer in control. You’ve been warned.”

Aaron huffs and bumps his shoulder against Kevin’s arm. Kevin’s hand finds the back of Aaron’s neck and rubs it again, little pulses, getting firmer until Aaron wriggles away. It probably takes longer than Kevin was expecting. 

“I’m down this way,” Kevin says when they’re not far off from the university building. He nods to a darker, tree lined street leading away. “But I can walk you home, if you want.”

“I can manage,” Aaron says. 

“Right.” Kevin catches his left hand and rubs his thumb into the palm. He looks at Aaron for a long moment. Kevin half in shadow, Aaron bathed in the pale glow of the street lamp. Aaron looks back, waiting. Eventually, Kevin says: “I’ll, uh. See you, then.” 

“Yeah.”

“Tonight was fun. You should hang with us again. Not just- Y’know, separate from work.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“...Bye?”

“Bye,” Kevin says, and the pair of them laugh, and whatever weird tension was brewing is expelled. Kevin pulls Aaron into a hug; Aaron’s face to his chest, breathing the scent of him, feeling his heartbeat firm and steady beneath his cheek. Kevin’s hand slides over the back of Aaron’s head, long fingers dragging through his hair, and Aaron’s eyes flutter at the sensation that is over entirely too soon. Kevin’s hands trail down his back, and then he’s stepping back, moving away, and Aaron is dizzy with wanting more. 

“Safe home, Aaron.” Kevin gives him a wave, and Aaron waves back numbly, watches as Kevin disappears into the shadows of the darker street.

*

“I feel like I’m suffocating,” Aaron says the second Katelyn picks up the phone.

“Anxiety attack?”

“No. Maybe. No. Feels kind of similar, but it’s not.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s… the guy.”

“The model guy?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god, did something happen?”

“No. Yes. Not really.”

“You gonna pick one?” The playful mockery in Katelyn’s voice soothes Aaron. The tense line of his shoulders softens slightly, and he cradles the phone a little closer to his ear as if he could press himself closer to her. 

“Not really. He and Jeremy asked me out to dinner with them.”

“The boyfriend? Oh my god. Did you get invited to a threesome?”

“Can I finish?”

“I mean, if there’s two guys working on you, I would hope so.”

“Katelyn!” He’s grinning, though. Wider when her giddy laughter pours down the phone line to him. “So here’s the thing: he’s not actually his boyfriend.”

“What?”

“Yeah, this other guy shows up and kisses Jeremy, like, right in front of Kevin. And I’m like _what_?”

“Plot twist!”

“Turns out Jeremy is dating one of the designers, who Kevin _used_ to date.”

“Drama.”

“But they’re just friends now. And I didn’t, like, I didn't outright ask, but I think, I’m pretty sure, like sure enough to bet on it, that Kevin is single.”

“Get on that, Aaron.”

“I can’t!”

“If he’s single, why not? Climb that boy like a tree.”

“Katelyn!”

“Wait, this is good news.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“So why were you panicking?”

“It’s not- I don’t know. He hugged me and my whole chest just felt like it was closing in on itself and I just- I can’t shake it.”

“He hugged you?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of hug?”

“Uh. Kinda. Held me to his chest and ran his hand through my hair.”

“Oh my god, Aaron.”

“What?”

“You _embraced_.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously. Did that _feel_ like a friend hug?”

“Considering only you and Nicky hug me, and you’re both so clingy-“

“Oh, as if you don’t fucking love my hugs.”

“Not really the best sample pool to judge by.”

“You still feeling panicky?”

“A little. Just. Kind of like my chest is tight, and I can’t get enough air in. Shaky, too. Talking to you has helped.” 

“Oh, sweet baby boy, you’ve got it bad.”

“Fuck off.”

“You _do_. This is like when you used to get all adorably flustered around me and try and act like you were so-“

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“Psh. Baby. You’re not on that shoot much longer, are you?”

“Another few days.”

“Aaron, you gotta shoot your shot!”

“Katelyn, it’s been like three weeks. I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but it took me nearly a year to shoot my shot with you.”

“Okay, first of all, let’s not front. You didn’t shoot shit. _I_ had to make a move on you, because you were a cowardly little pissbaby.”

“Thanks.”

“A very endearing, adorable little pissbaby.”

“Why did we break up again?”

“Isn’t it easier now that you’ve done it once?”

“No. I can say with certainty it definitely does not feel easier.” He hears Katelyn huff a laugh over the phone and wishes he could see her face, see the tilt of her mouth, the squint of her eyes. “It’s not just… that he’s…”

“A model?”

“Someone I work with,” Aaron says, when what he really means is _he’s tall and gorgeous and definitely way out of my league_. “It also sounds like he’s had a shit time dating before. Like, I don’t even know that he’d want to date. He mentions this shitty ex sometimes, and… I dunno.”

“But he embraced you.”

Aaron remembers Kevin’s heartbeat against his cheek.

“He _hugged_ me, yeah.”

“Hm. Well, I can’t make a decision for you, but you _can_ make a decision for me. Pink or orange?”

“In regards to what?”

“My nails.”

“Pink, but do one of them orange. I don’t know which one it is you do the different colour.”

“Hm. Yeah, alright. You feeling better?”

“A little.”

“Good, because I didn’t want to interrupt your potential breakdown, but you will not believe the customer I had to deal with today.” 

Aaron takes steady breaths as he listens to Katelyn talking. Focuses on the soft impact of each of his steps as he makes his way back to his and Andrew’s flat. He’s feeling a lot calmer again by the time he ends the call with a good night to Katelyn, but then he thinks of Kevin again, and his stomach is aflutter with fresh nerves.

*

Aaron doesn’t know why underwear and swimwear were not shot on the same day, except to personally fuck him over.

Okay, that’s a little melodramatic, but Jeremy has brought a fucking paddling pool into the studio today, and having to deal with Kevin Day not only scantily clad, but scantily clad and _wet_? If there’s any higher power in this world, they’ve decided to make Aaron’s life a tragic joke. 

“Hey Aaron.” Kevin looks up at him from where he’s sitting cross legged against one of the walls. He’s already been through makeup, but he’s nursing a thick book and a coffee out of everyone else’s way. Aaron leans against the wall and slides down to sit beside him.

“Hey. What’re you reading?”

“100 Nasty Women of History.”

“Is this for school?”

“Nah, just for fun. It’s kind of like someone internet infodumping their fave historical fem facts on you. Not really written academically, but I’m loving it. See?”

He tilts the book towards Aaron, and Aaron skims over an excerpt about Hypatia that opens with: ‘ _Hypatia lived thousands of years before Internet trolls existed, so sadly nobody ever informed her that girls are really bad at maths because their brains are too frilly and emotional, and also that she was an ugly slut. And so, without this crucial warning, she became the greatest mathematician and astronomer of her time.’_ And has a joke about doing a backup on _the Kindle of Alexandria_ at the end of it. Aaron huffs a laugh. 

“That’s more interesting than some stuffy documentary.”

“Right? And that’s the thing, history _is_ interesting. I mean, it’s everything. People who say they’re not interested in history are lying, because it’s _everything._ Everything is born from history: sports, tradition, books, music, everything. Then people have this misconception it’s boring, because they didn’t click with how someone framed it, and it’s such a shame because there’s so much fascinating stuff to learn, and- and I’m rambling.”

“You are,” Aaron says. “Like a nerd.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was enjoying it.”

Kevin looks at him with that crooked, dorky smile he gets every time he talks about history. His fingers close and squeeze around the book briefly, then he sits it on his lap. 

“I’m gonna take the title of that real quick, though. I think my friend Katelyn would love it.”

“She would,” Kevin says, even though Aaron has never mentioned Katelyn and so he knows nothing about her. 

“Said with such confidence.”

“It’s about about one hundred badass women in history, Aaron. Who wouldn’t love this? People you shouldn’t be associating with, because wow, boring.”

“You’re right. I’m sold.”

Aaron sits with his shoulder pressed against Kevin’s and the book held between them, both of them reading together for a while, until he has to go start shooting. He presses his back to the wall and uses his legs to push back up to his feet. Kevin’s fingers curl around his calf and give a brief squeeze before Aaron steps away to set up.

*

Aaron is taken with how hot Kevin looks in a tight pair of swim shorts for all of two minutes, before Kevin steps into the paddling pool and promptly slips and lands on his ass with an impressive splash. Aaron laughs so hard he forgets how to breathe, and ends up bent double, wheezing and purple faced as Jeremy pats his back.

“Fuck you,” Kevin says, but he’s fighting down a smile. Aaron laughs harder, soundless trembling wracking through his body. 

“Aaron, you need to breathe,” Jeremy says, but the fact he’s grinning broad and quietly chuckling doesn’t help. Aaron gasps in a breath and cough-laughs. “Aaron, please.”

“You are such an asshole,” Kevin says. It only makes Aaron laugh harder. His stomach hurts. He dry heaves, and finally starts to suck air in again. His face is damp with tears and when he looks back to Kevin he starts guffawing once more.

“Okay, I think you should take a break.” Jeremy steers Aaron away, and plops him, still laugh/coughing, into a chair. Kevin comes to him a moment later with a towel over his shoulders, and hands Aaron a cup of water. 

“Dick.”

“Sorry,” Aaron says, his body shaking with the threat of more laughter. “Your face was just so funny.”

“Tch… it’s fine.” Kevin reaches out and brushes his thumb along Aaron’s cheek, catching some stray tears of amusement. “It was worth it to see you lose your shit like that. Usually it’s like you’re always trying to hold back.”

“What?”

“When you laugh, or smile, or anything. It’s like you’re filtering it all. Like you’re afraid of just… being seen.”

“It sounds like I’ve been seen,” Aaron says, quickly sobering, Kevin’s words making him feel exposed and vulnerable.

“Only if someone’s looking close enough,” Kevin says, almost too quiet to hear. His fingers press briefly into Aaron’s hair, run sweetly along his scalp, and then Kevin’s walking away from him and Aaron’s left with the thundering of his heart he’s not convinced is entirely from the laughing fit.

*

He gets through the rest of the shoot with minimal giggles, and stays after to help Jeremy put towels down to soak up all the water that’s splashed out of the pool. 

“Can’t believe Kevin’s ass caused a tsunami,” Aaron says through a wheezy laugh. Kevin flips him off, but Jeremy laughs loud and bright, so he counts that as a win.

“I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking,” Kevin says, sounding so put out that Jeremy and Aaron lean into each other in a fresh fit of giggles. Aaron feels laugh drunk and giddy by the time they all leave, walking with Jeremy until he cuts off for home, and then it’s just Aaron and Kevin again.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asks, and, hey, he does, genuinely, try very hard not to smile. He doesn’t succeed, but he tries real hard.

“Your concern is so convincing.”

“Kevin.” Aaron touches his arm, fingers light. Kevin sighs. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Kevin.” This time it’s not Aaron’s voice that speaks. In less than a second Kevin goes fully tense beneath his touch. Aaron looks up to see a dark haired, dark eyed Japanese man standing in their path. He’s smiling, but it’s got a sharp edge to it, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. Aaron steps instinctively closer to Kevin.

“I haven’t seen you around,” the man says, when Kevin doesn’t answer. There’s a slight tremble to Kevin’s limbs. “You haven’t been down the club in a long time.”

“Why would I?” Kevin’s voice is unlike Aaron has ever heard it, like he has to rip the words from his throat. 

“Kevin, baby, who’s this?” Aaron asks sweetly, letting his Southern accent bleed through heavy, having a feeling he knows exactly who it is. He wraps himself around Kevin’s arm and slides his hand into his, feels Kevin squeeze it fiercely in thanks. Aaron gently smooths his thumb over Kevin’s knuckles in silent support. 

“This is my ex,” Kevin says, and Aaron can see him struggling with the name. He presses his forehead to Kevin’s bicep and Kevin exhales shakily. “Riko.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, sounding bored. Then, channeling Andrew to the best of his ability, he turns a dead eyed stare on Riko. “Did you want something? We kind of have plans.”

Riko barely glances at him before looking at Kevin, before stepping closer, before reaching for the front of his jacket. Aaron slips between them, back to Kevin’s chest, and knocks Riko’s hand aside. Riko blinks slow, like he can’t quite believe what happened.

“I’m sorry. I don’t like people touching my boyfriend,” Aaron says, his voice still sickly Southern sweet, but his eyes narrowed now, because unlike Andrew, he cannot keep his anger from his expression, he wears it like a storm. He feels Kevin’s hands on his hips, clutching to him desperately. Aaron remembers the scars on his body. Remembers the way he said _I’ve had worse_. He remembers, and as Riko opens his mouth to no doubt say something just as cutting as his blades had been, Aaron let’s all the anger go, and swings a fist hard into his face. 

His hand fucking _aches_ with the impact. Hot, fierce pain. The smashing of knuckles into cheekbone makes an icky slap-crack sound, but it’s actually shockingly exhilarating to be on the other side of it. To be the one that throws the hit rather than the punching bag. Aaron feels his lips pulling back, feels the feral, sharp edged grin without consciously deciding to smile. He starts forward, hungry to feel the impact again, but Kevin’s arm around his chest stops him.

“Aaron,” he says, hot and urgent against his ear, desperate edged, laced with fear. Aaron looks up at him and Kevin’s expression is ripped bare, unfiltered terror and vulnerability. The fire goes out of Aaron and he sinks back into his hold. 

“You’re going to regret that,” Riko says, spitting blood on the pavement. “More than you know.”

Then he says something to Kevin in Japanese that causes Kevin’s jaw to tighten like a vice. Aaron takes his hand again and gently guides him around Riko.

“Fuck you,” he says, and spits without grace at Riko’s feet. 

*

Aaron takes Kevin home with him, because Kevin is having a panic attack, and a pretty bad one. They have to stop a few times along the way for Aaron to guide Kevin away from the edge of hyperventilating. Aaron’s not sure Kevin’s shaky legs will make it to his apartment, but they do, Kevin leaning heavily against his shoulder for the last few minutes. He takes Kevin’s jacket off, props him on the couch, and brings him some water. Kevin’s hands are shaking too much to hold the glass.

Aaron wraps a blanket over his shoulders and gently rubs them, his biceps, his forearms. He’s not sure if they go tingling and numb the way Aaron’s sometimes do, but the contact seems to be soothing Kevin on some level, so he keeps doing it. Gently talking to Kevin as he does so. Quiet encouragement and helping him time his breaths. When Kevin finally settles into a steadier breathing pattern, he looks absolutely exhausted. His hands are still trembling.

He sinks back against the couch, and Aaron moves the gentle rubbing down to his hands. Takes his cold fingers between his own and presses the warmth of his skin into them. 

“Aaron,” Kevin says, voice gravel rough. He hasn’t cried but he looks like he’s a nudge away from it. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“He shouldn’t have done anything he did,” Aaron says, still furious. 

“I don’t want him to hurt you.” It’s these words that break Kevin. His tears don’t come as a flood; not as a messy, loud break down. There is no sobbing. His shoulders shake, hard, and then a tear spills down his cheek, hot and fast. Another comes after it, then one from his other eye. Aaron touches his cheek, slow and soft, giving Kevin the chance to pull away if he needs it. Instead, Kevin presses his cheek firmly to Aaron’s palm.

“Let him try,” Aaron says, and Kevin shakes his head, fierce, insistent. His long fingers curl around Aaron’s wrist and he holds firm as he tries to find his voice again.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of. Aaron… all the scars. He’d tie me down, and… for hours. He’d cut me with a knife. Over and over. Gag me when I screamed. Even if I passed out, he kept- he kept going.”

Aaron closes his eyes as if he can block out the image of Kevin’s words. His jaw is tight and tense. He forces his hand to stay soft, his fingers to stay sweet and gentle against Kevin’s face. Kevin does sob, then. One choked, painful sound. 

“He drugged me. Tattooed his initial on my face. Said everyone could see I was his- that’s why-“

“Why you have this,” Aaron says, and so gently brushes his thumb over Kevin’s tattoo. Kevin sniffs, nods, and Aaron shifts closer even though there’s barely an inch between them. Kevin’s head finds his shoulder, face pressing into his throat, and Aaron cradles the back of his head, strokes soft circles against his scalp. “I thought they couldn’t tattoo you if you weren’t sober.”

“He paid the place off. He always has some way of getting what he wants… It was so fucking ugly,” Kevin says. The words are thick with the threat of more tears, but he sounds more like himself. “Just an R, but with this little crown over it, because he thinks he’s the fucking king of everything. Well, fuck that. Do you know what kings do in chess?”

“Shit all,” says Aaron, whose chess knowledge is limited, but enough to know the general rules.

“Basically. You have to fucking spend all your time defending them. But the queen…”

“She can move any way, right?”

“Yeah. She can go wherever she wants. She’s free to choose her own path, so after I got out… I fucking hated seeing it every time I looked in the mirror. Like a brand. Worse than any of the scars.”

Aaron tilts Kevin’s face up and very softly kisses his queen tattoo. His lips come away salty damp with tears. Kevin makes a soft, high noise in his throat and surges forward against Aaron’s throat again, clutching him with renewed vigour.

“I like this one,” Aaron says softly. 

“Aaron,” Kevin says, ragged and pleading.

“I’m here.”

“You shouldn’t have hit him. I’m not worth it.”

“I’m not sorry. I’d do it again.”

“Aaron.”

“Kevin.” 

“I don’t want to lose you,” Kevin whispers. Aaron has to strain his ears to hear him. He closes his eyes and exhales in a sigh. A few hours ago, those words would have given him goosebumps. Now they’re sullied by the desperate, aching tone of Kevin’s voice.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aaron says. He gets Kevin to drink some water, then brings a cool washcloth out to pat the raw, angry red skin around his eyes. Kevin sits quietly and doesn’t react much to Aaron’s touches, eyes glassy and out of focus. “Do you have a tension headache or anything?”

“A little,” Kevin says. Aaron thought he might from crying, so he gives him a few pain meds too, then takes him to bed. Not exactly how he imagined he’d be taking Kevin Day to bed, but he doesn’t trust sending Kevin home on his own right now. So they lie on Aaron’s bed, Aaron awkwardly spooning Kevin - or, what is it when the big spoon is shorter? Jet packing, he thinks - with a hand on his chest, and Kevin clutching his hand like a life line. There’s still the odd tremble that runs through his body, but eventually exhaustion wins out, and Kevin falls to softly breathing. 

Aaron only leaves when he hears the front door. He shifts carefully away from Kevin, makes sure the blanket is tucked neatly around him, and then goes out to the living room. Andrew is hanging his jacket by the door. He barely glances at Aaron when he comes out. 

“I have someone over,” Aaron says, quiet, careful. Andrew arches a brow. “And I might have done something careless.”

Andrew’s second brow joins the first halfway up his forehead. 

“Want to go get ice cream?” Aaron says, and Andrew pulls his jacket back off the hook. Aaron sends Kevin a quick text to let him know he’ll be back soon, just in case he wakes alone, then pulls on his shoes and follows Andrew out the door.

*

Aaron explains, over ice cream sundaes, what he knows about Riko. Which, granted, isn’t much. He talks about Kevin’s fear. He relays Riko’s weakass threat, which Andrew scoffs and rolls his eyes at, and Aaron feels an intense throb of affection for him that is rare between them. 

“You want me to get rid of him.”

“What? No. Andrew, this is not me asking-“ Aaron remembers they’re in public and looks around, before leaning closer and lowering his voice. “I’m not asking you for a fucking hit on him.”

Andrew runs his finger down his armband, and Aaron knows he’s tracing the shape of the blade hidden away in there.

“Andrew.”

“Little brother, you come to me with a problem-“

“Don’t ‘little brother’ me, we don’t know that you’re older-“

“And so I offer you a solution.”

“I could be older, and, you know, most people don’t see murder as a solution.”

“It’s a very effective one,” Andrew says, and Aaron glares at him, the unspoken thorn of Tilda’s death forever wedged between them. 

“I didn’t tell you this so you can fix it for me. I told you because I wanted to talk to someone about it, and you’re my brother, and I…” Aaron feels his jaw getting tense. It’s hard for him to articulate feelings when he was taught all his life he wasn’t supposed to have them, when he was punished everytime he displayed any sign of emotion. Therapy has helped, but without Bee present to guide their conversations, it’s still hard. He works his jaw loose and pushes the words out. “I wanted to talk to you, specifically, about it.”

Andrew regards Aaron as if he’s watching paint dry. He scoops whipped cream onto his spoon, then drags it over his tongue to lick it off. Aaron resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“So what do you want from me?”

“I just… wanted you to listen,” Aaron says, and deflates a little. He wanted a normal conversation with his brother, but that’s asking too much. Andrew can barely stay focused long enough on his meds to listen to him half the time. Aaron curls his arms around his ribs and leans back against the sticky plastic seats of the booth they’re in. He keeps trying and trying and trying with Andrew, and he feels stupid and small and insignificant every time.

“And I did listen, and you’re still pouting.”

“Fuck off. I’m not pouting.”

“Are,” Andrew says, and kicks him under the table. “Why did you care enough to get involved, anyway?”

Aaron doesn’t say anything. He focuses very intently on his ice cream, shifting the spoon.

“Oh, fuck no,” Andrew says. Then he cackles loud enough for everyone else in the ice cream parlour to turn their heads and look at them. Aaron kicks him under the table this time. “Nicky’s going to be ecstatic.” 

“I hate you.”

“Not as much as I hate you. Are you gonna finish that?”

Aaron shakes his head and pushes the rest of his ice cream across the table to Andrew. 

*

Kevin’s awake when Aaron gets back, but still in his bed. He’s speaking in quiet French when Aaron opens the door. He hovers in the doorway, not wanting to invade Kevin’s privacy, ready to backtrack, but Kevin holds a hand out to him.

He says something else in French, and then: “I’ll talk to you later, Jean. Yeah. Bye.” 

“Hey,” Aaron says, his fingers touching Kevin’s palm. Kevin takes his hand. “Feeling any better?”

“A little. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

“Psh.”

“Really, Aaron. I’m not sure what I’d have done if you hadn’t been there. If I’d been alone. What _he_ ’ _d_ have done.”

“But I was.”

“You were, and I’m really grateful, even if you are a stubborn dumbass who doesn’t know when to back down.”

“I’ll tickle you,” Aaron threatens, but they both know it’s an empty threat. Aaron won’t do anything to Kevin when he’s still this aching and emotionally raw. Kevin forces a smile for him, anyway. “Stay tonight?”

The sheer relief in Kevin’s expression says more than any words could.

“Do you mind?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I did, would I?”

Kevin tugs Aaron to the side of the bed and presses his face to his chest. It’s strange, having their positions reversed like this, but not unpleasant. Aaron carefully runs the fingers of his free hand through Kevin’s hair. Kevin makes a soft sound and wraps his free arm around Aaron’s waist, holds him close, breathes him in.

Aaron eventually shifts to join Kevin on the bed. They strip off to underwear and t-shirts. Aaron turns the lights off and pads his way with familiar ease to the bed. He pats his hand over the shape of Kevin, feeling for the free space to slip beneath the blanket. Kevin shifts to face him, his hands finding Aaron’s and holding them between them. His bare knee brushes against Aaron’s, and Aaron automatically hooks his leg around Kevin’s calf. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with all his bullshit,” Aaron says.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you even date a guy like that?”

“I mean, he wasn’t a guy like that when I met him. Or, well, he was, but he’s very good at hiding it. He acted sweet, and charming, and gave me attention in a way I’d never got from a guy before. Then we started dating and… Jean found out. He tried to warn me. Fuck… he tried so hard. He wanted to spare me, but Riko thought he would, you see. He’d told me all these stories about his ex. How jealous he was, how possessive, the kind of things he’d tell me. Fucking idiot I was, I believed him.”

“Kevin. You’re not… he manipulated you. That’s not on you.”

“Feels like it should have been obvious.” Kevin sighs. Aaron tugs one of his hands free to reach up and stroke his hair, fingers trailing along the curve of his ear. “Then when he started hurting me, _really_ hurting me, I tried to leave then… but… Okay, so, I said I met Jeremy from the lacrosse team.”

“Yeah.”

“I used to play. It was my mother’s favourite sport, and she took me to games when I was younger. She died… car accident.”

“My mom died in a car accident too,” Aaron says, quiet. He doesn’t mention Andrew’s part in it.

“I’m sorry,” Kevin says. Aaron squeezes his hand.

“She was more of a Riko type of mum,” Aaron says. “I shouldn’t miss her, but-“

“You can’t help how you feel about someone, Aaron. You can’t turn it off. If we could, abusers would have a lot less power over us.”

“I know.” Aaron sighs. He drags his thumb over the curve of Kevin’s ear. “Go on.”

“Right, so I used to play, and it meant a lot to me. Like, I adored it, and it was the one thing… I… this is stupid, but it made me feel close to her.”

“That’s not stupid.”

Kevin makes a noise of disbelief.

“Anyway. It was also like one of the few things that got me away from Riko. Got me out and gave me a break. I’d try and drag every practice out. I lived for every game, especially away ones. I had to be careful about changing and showering, so no one saw all the marks, but it was my escape. And Riko knew that. Said if I left I’d never play again.”

“He pay off the team or something?”

“Ha. No. I wish. He broke my hand. Like, absolutely shattered it. Cut the tendons. It was a mess. It’s amazing I got full movement back in it. I had to have so many surgeries, and a lot of physio when it was healing, but it’s still pretty weak. I get tired even holding my pen sometimes.” 

Aaron thinks of all the times he’s watched Kevin grab his left hand. Something he thought was little more than a nervous habit. He feels sick.

“Oh, Kevin.”

“But he lost his bartering chip after that. The worst had happened, so I had no reason to stay.”

Aaron takes Kevin’s left hand in his and raises it to his lips. He has to ghost his lips across skin in the dark to find the shape of it, but he presses a kiss to every knuckle. 

“He’s a fucking asshole.”

“Yes. You see why I’m worried about you now?”

“Oh, he can fucking try. He hasn’t got me charmed blind.”

“Aaron.”

“I hate him.”

“Join the club. Me and Jean are going to make shirts.”

Aaron huffs a laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. They fall quiet. Kevin sighs, a sound of soft exhaustion. 

“Come here,” Aaron says, voice low and hoarse in the dark. He tugs Kevin closer and guides his head to his shoulder, and Kevin loops an arm around his waist, presses close to him. 

“This isn’t how I thought I’d end up in your bed,” Kevin says after a moment.

“You thought you’d end up in my bed?”

“I- uh- no, that’s not- fuck, I didn’t mean-“

Aaron snorts. He presses a kiss to the top of Kevin’s forehead.

“Don’t take a fucking aneurysm.”

Kevin exhales, breath warm against Aaron’s neck. His fingers skim the base of Aaron’s shirt, linger against the bare skin of his side, and when Aaron doesn’t tense or move away, he slides his hand under his shirt so the warm skin of his palm is pressed to Aaron’s back. Aaron drags his nails lightly over Kevin’s scalp, and Kevin hums.

He falls asleep against Aaron’s chest, and Aaron lies awake for a long time, just stroking his hair and listening to him breathe.

*

“I think your brother hates me,” Kevin says when Aaron wakes up. Aaron blinks, blearily, watching the shape of Kevin set a plate of eggs and toast beside him with a glass of orange juice.

“Wha’?”

“I was making you breakfast to say thanks, for, y’know, everything. And he came out and just glared at me the whole time.”

“That’s his default expression,” Aaron says, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

“Wanted to.” Kevin sits cross legged on the other side of the bed, nursing his own plate which just has some scrambled egg on it. 

“Thanks.” Aaron sits up, his hair a ruffled birds nest. They eat breakfast with their knees pressed together, and then Aaron takes the plates to the kitchen where Andrew is sitting cross legged on one of the chairs, poking at his own plate. “Did Kevin also feed you?”

“He has his uses.”

“He thinks you hate him.”

“I hate everyone.”

“Dick.” Aaron bumps Andrew’s head with his elbow as he walks by, and Andrew stabs him in the thigh with his fork. “Ow, you absolute fuck.”

“You started it.”

“Choke and perish.”

“I love when you sweet talk me.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I hate you more.”

“Take your meds?”

“Already done.”

“Okay.” On Aaron’s way past again, Andrew holds his elbow out. Aaron bumps it lightly with his, then heads back to his room. “I think you’re fine with Andrew. That’s as good a response as you get.”

“Oh. Okay.” 

Kevin smiles from his place on the bed. Aaron crosses to him and rests a hand on his head, feels the warmth of him through his palm. Kevin smiles, quizzical, and Aaron doesn’t think he will ever regret punching Riko. Not for Kevin.

*

The last day of shooting is sleepwear and any odds and ends. Details and accessories. He shoots a lot of pyjamas, mostly women’s. Kevin comes in first thing even though he’s not needed until the afternoon, and sits to the side reading. More than once Aaron catches Kevin watching him shoot instead. 

“Hey.” Kevin brings him a cookie and a cup of tea when he takes a break between sets. 

“Thanks,” Aaron says, fingers brushing Kevin’s as he takes the cup. 

He’s sad, when it’s over. It wasn’t a passion project, but he’s ended up having a lot more fun on this job than he expected to. 

“You’re coming out with us tonight, right, Aaron?” Jeremy says, appearing and squeezing his shoulder.

“Out?”

“Did I not invite you?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, shit. I thought I’d told everyone. We’re just going out for some drinks. Little post shoot party. My first one, and I think it went brilliantly, thanks to you.”

“I think it was a group effort.”

“And so humble. No wonder Kevin’s smitten with you,” Jeremy says, squeezing Aaron’s shoulder and kissing his temple.

“Kevin’s what?”

“...Oh, shit, well, I need to make sure I’ve invited everyone else.”

“Jeremy.”

“I didn’t say anything! Byeee.”

Aaron frowns after him, cheeks flushed. He packs up his camera, double checks he has everything, then goes to find Kevin.

“Jeremy says we’re going out tonight, but he didn’t say where.”

“That sounds like Jeremy.”

“So?”

“Uh, what’s the name again. Something Eden, because it reminded me of the garden of Eden.”

“Eden’s Twilight?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Kevin says. Aaron huffs a laugh. “What?”

“That’s where Andrew works.”

“Oh. Is that bad?”

“Nah. That’s free drinks all night, is what that is.”

“So you’re saying I should stick by you, then,” Kevin says. He reaches forward and brushes Aaron’s hair back from his forehead.

“Yes,” Aaron says, voice soft. “You should.”

“Okay.”

*

They all look very good, clad in tight, dark clothes. Kevin and Jean are both all in black, but Jeremy’s wearing a boldly patterned shirt tucked into his skinny jeans. Aaron makes a show of covering his eyes when he sees him.

“Jesus, that’s bright.”

“Do you like it?” Jeremy smiles brightly at him, and sometimes, Aaron thinks, you can choose not to be a dick. Like when beautiful sunshine boys with the personality of a golden retriever are smiling at you.

“You look great,” Aaron says, which isn’t technically a lie, because he’s not technically referring to the shirt. Kevin gives him a _look_ like he caught that loophole. 

Aaron recognises some of the other models and behind the scenes huddled behind them. Laila with her much mentioned girlfriend waves at him, and Aaron gives them a little wave back as they head inside. Aaron sticks close to Kevin though. He’s got a feeling he’s going to have to say something to him tonight, because he doesn’t trust his traitorous mouth not to blab something stupid once he starts drinking.

One for liquid courage, though. That’s fine. That’s acceptable. One, and two shots, and both Andrew and Roland giving him looks from behind the bar because of fucking course Andrew ran his mouth. He’s as bad a gossiper as Nicky, just quieter about it.

Kevin’s leaning against the bar, bopping his head lightly as he watches Jeremy and Jean dance, fond smile tilting his mouth. Aaron watches him for a moment, before leaning closer to be heard over the music.

“Can we go outside for a bit?” 

Kevin tilts his head towards him, expression curious, before he nods. Aaron’s downs the rest of the drink so he won’t have to hold it in his shaky, nervous hands, and leads the way out to the smoking area. He takes Kevin to the far corner, where the smoke won’t reach them. 

“What’s up?” Kevin stands in front of him, and Aaron leans back against the wall to look up at him.

“Right. Well. So,” Aaron says, and stops, his chest a little tight. 

“So?”

Aaron’s nervous hand reaches out, and Kevin automatically offers his without thought. Aaron takes it, runs his finger up along Kevin’s.

“So,” Aaron says again, and Kevin laughs. It’s a low, soft sound. 

“You’re starting to worry me.”

“It’s not- it’s nothing like- ugh, okay, I hate _saying_ this because it’s like… cringe much.”

“Ah yes, but saying ‘cringe much’ is just so eloquent.”

“Shut up. Oh my god, only you could be infuriating when I’m trying to tell you I like you.”

“You like me?”

“Against my better judgement, yeah,” Aaron says, feeling his stupid fucking face flush furiously. “And, look, you don’t need to say anything back, I just wanted to let you know in case I say something stupid with drinking. I’d rather… tell you when I know what I’m saying.”

Kevin leans his free hand on the wall above Aaron, leaning over him. He takes his hand from Aaron and gently draws his fingertips along Aaron’s cheek, instead, and everything beneath Aaron’s ribs feels liquified. 

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to go out sometime, once we were done with the shoot. I was gonna ask the other night, before…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That would be cool.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.”

“Come down here and kiss me before I have to drag you down.”

“Maybe I’d like that,” Kevin says, and laughs when Aaron does, in fact, drag him down by his shirt to press their mouths together, hot and firm. 

Kevin eases the pressure slightly so he can slot their lips together better. His thumb strokes along Aaron’s jaw to his ear, traces the shape of the lobe. Aaron hums against his mouth, one hand still clutching a fistful of Kevin’s shirt, the other hooked around his neck to hold him close. He nips Kevin’s lower lip, and Kevin gives his hair a light tug. Aaron gasps, and Kevin licks into his mouth, all liquid heat. 

Aaron makes a sound that he might fucking die if anyone else in this smoking area heard. He can feel Kevin smirking against his lips, the catch of his teeth against Aaron’s tongue, his strong fingers cupping Aaron’s skull, holding him in place so he can kiss him dizzy. Aaron’s nails drag down Kevin’s chest over his shirt. Kevin hisses, presses Aaron against the wall with his chest, awkwardly angled with their height. 

“Jesus fuck,” Aaron says, when they break apart for air. The Southern twang of his accent is heavy, his voice thick with arousal. Kevin’s mouth drops to his neck instead, searing kisses trailing beneath his ear. “Kevin.”

“Yeah, babe?”

“No, Kevin, stop.” Aaron catches his hair and tugs sharply. Kevin fucking _moans_ and Aaron is just going to combust into ash and they can put him in one of the many fucking ash trays out here. “People.”

Kevin blinks bleary eyes, his pupils blown, and glances over at the rest of the smoking area like he forgot where they were. He licks his slick lips and Aaron’s whole body thrums with want. He absently bites his own lip. 

“Sorry,” Kevin says, his voice a low rumble that goes right through Aaron’s stomach. “Been wanting to do that for a while.”

“You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”

“Only the little one,” Kevin teases, breath warm against Aaron’s ear, trailing his nose along the shell of it. 

Aaron grabs Kevin’s wrist and storms into the bar, dragging him after him. He slams his hand down against the bar top and Roland looks at him.

“I need to use the store room, and you will not say anything, because I’ve seen you and my brother in compromising positions too many fucking times. You owe me this, and you keep your mouth shut about it.”

Roland raises his eyebrows, then grabs some keys from behind the bar and takes one off the ring for Aaron.

“Good for you. Nicky‘s going to be delighted.”

“I said not a fucking word,” Aaron says, and snatches the key. 

Once they’re in, he locks the door behind them and slams Kevin back against it, kicking his legs apart to bring them closer in height. He presses himself up between Kevin’s legs, hand cupping the side of his neck.

“Fuck, Aaron.”

“You started this,” Aaron says, lips against Kevin’s in the dark. His hand slaps across the wall until he hits the light switch, and the dull, faded bulb buzzes to life above them.

“I’m not complaining.” 

“Good.” Aaron presses his hips into Kevin’s as he kisses him again, and Kevin’s hands slide into his back pockets, squeezing his ass. He slips a thigh between Aaron’s legs and pulls him forward. Aaron grinds against the firm muscle of his thigh with a moan. “Jesus.”

“No, just Kevin.”

“Dick.”

“Yes, please. Can I suck you off?”

“Nngh. You can’t just say things like that.”

“Then how will I know the answer?” Kevin flips them, presses Aaron back against the door and slides a hand between them to palm over Aaron’s hardening cock. Aaron pants, open mouthed, desperately arching up to kiss Kevin again, slick and messy.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes.” 

“Excellent.” Then Kevin is on his knees, though it really doesn’t take him as far down as Aaron would have hoped. Kevin shifts his knees wider apart and sinks lower. He undoes Aaron’s trousers, but pushes his shirt up first, taking time to nose and kiss over his lower stomach. Aaron squirms at the sensation, then gasps when Kevin bites down above his hip bone. His hand fists in Kevin’s hair and holds tight.

Kevin presses his cheek against Aaron through his underwear, mouthing over the fabric. Aaron’s legs shake a little. He leans his shoulder blades back against the wall, tugs on Kevin’s hair when he starts to get impatient with his teasing. Kevin glances up at him with a smirk that is pure sin, and Aaron bites hard on his low lip.

Kevin peels his underwear down and finally, _finally_ , his long fingers curl around Aaron, warm and firm. He strokes him once, twice, then sticks out his tongue and drags it over the head of Aaron’s cock. A shudder runs through his whole body. Kevin turns his head and bites into the flesh of Aaron’s thigh, sucking a dark bruise as his hand gently strokes him. 

“Fuck.” Aaron presses his wrist to his mouth, but Kevin reaches up and tugs his arm down. 

“No one’s going to hear you over the music besides me, so let me hear.”

“Okay.” Aaron’s voice is little more than a hoarse whisper. Kevin smiles, then takes Aaron in his mouth again, and the whole world narrows down to the wet warmth of it. Aaron’s head slams back against the door with a thud when Kevin takes him deeper in his throat, and he makes a desperate, ragged sound. “Kevin.”

Aaron tugs at Kevin’s hair, and Kevin’s whine is muffled around him. He traces his thumb over one of Aaron’s hip bones, then slides it up beneath his shirt and thumbs over a nipple. Aaron’s hips twitch, bucking against Kevin. Kevin gags.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kevin says, drawing back to take a breath. “Just wasn’t expecting it. You can… uh, fuck my face if you want.”

Yeah, Aaron’s going to fucking die.

“What?”

“If you just let me get in place first. Keep your hand in my hair, here. Yeah, just like that.”

“Kevin… are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know. That’s why I’m saying you can. If it gets too much, I’ll tap out.” He taps his hand twice against Aaron’s hip as a demonstration. “Okay?”

“I- okay.”

“Cool,” Kevin says, and his eyes are dark and hungry. He settles himself again and eases Aaron into his mouth, taking care with his teeth, relaxing his throat. Then he meets Aaron’s gaze and gives the smallest nod. 

Aaron’s fingers tighten in his hair, and Kevin moans, vibrating around him, and Aaron doesn’t know how any of this can even be _real_. It feels too hot and too much, hazy edged, but he also feels so extremely sharp and present. He holds Kevin in place and rocks forward into his mouth; gentle, experimental. Kevin hums pleasantly, his hands sliding up along the back of Aaron’s thighs.

Aaron rocks forward again, just small movements. It’s more the act itself than the movement that has him absolutely searing beneath his skin. The fact Kevin so willingly handed control to him. The fact he _could_ hurt him, but Kevin’s trusting him. That’s what makes his head spin with a fucking tidal wave of arousal.

“Kevin,” Aaron says, moans, babbles, awareness sliding away. He feels fucking high, light headed, unsteady on his feet. Then he presses forward a little further, his cock bumping the back of Kevin’s throat, feeling it tighten around him, and Aaron’s brain just says farewell. He’s running on instinct and sensation, fucking forward against Kevin’s mouth and, god, the sound, the fucking _sound_ of it, all saliva slick and the odd quiet gag. It’s not long before Aaron comes, clutching tight to Kevin’s hair, crumpling forward over him as his body is wrecked with pleasure. 

Kevin takes over the rhythm as Aaron comes, sucking him through it. He takes Aaron’s weight when his legs start to give out, shifting them with a little effort so he’s sitting with his back against the door, Aaron’s trembling form on his lap. He’s breathing hard, face pressed to Kevin’s shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Aaron finally says, ragged and breathless.

“That okay?”

“Fuck. You- fuck.” His hands fumble weakly for Kevin’s face. He presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of Kevin’s mouth. “Can’t feel my fucking toes.”

Kevin laughs delightedly, cuddling Aaron closer and dotting kisses over his cheek and hair as he recovers. 

“I told you. La petite mort. What I promised.”

“I definitely think my soul briefly left my body.”

“You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” Aaron says, but there’s no heat in his voice, only in the flush of his cheeks. “Full disclosure: not sure I can live up to that.”

“You don’t have to live up to anything.”

“Yeah, okay, but I just… I’ve never...”

“You’ve never?”

“Never sucked a dick before.”

“Poetry.”

“Shut up!”

“You don’t have to, Aaron. It’s not an exchange. Give me a few minutes to calm down, we can just go out again.”

“No. Jesus. You think I’m gonna leave you hanging after _that_? Hell naw.”

“Not an exchange,” Kevin reminds gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I want to. I really want to. I just- set the bar low.”

“Because you’re too short to step over it?”

“Bold, bold words for the man - or, sorry, person - who’s gonna put their dick in my mouth.”

“Their…”

“Oh, sorry, do you prefer just male pronouns?”

“I just- no one’s ever used their for me before.”

“Did you… like it?”

“Yes,” Kevin says, and kisses Aaron hard. Aaron smiles, smoothing his hands over Kevin’s hair, his own mouth languid and pliable beneath Kevin’s heat. 

“Right. Lemme just-“ Aaron gets off Kevin and stands to fix his pants. Once he’s dressed again, he smooths his shirt and pats himself down. Kevin watches him with fond amusement. “Alright, Day. Dick out.”

“And people say romance is dead,” Kevin says, but he gets to his feet, and just the act of lazily undoing his trousers has Aaron’s cock twitching with interest again. He ignores it and comes forward to kiss Kevin, hand sliding down his chest, trailing after the waistband of Kevin’s briefs as he lowers them. 

Aaron trails his fingers along the length of Kevin’s cock, teasing, before he wraps his hand around it. Kevin makes a soft sound against his mouth. Aaron strokes slow, experimental, feeling the difference from his own. He nips Kevin’s lip sharply, before he shifts back and drops to his knees. It annoys him he still has to tilt his head up a bit.

“Spread your legs further,” he says, and Kevin does, immediately. “Perfect. Just like that.”

And he’s hit with such a wave of déjà vu as Kevin’s face shifts into the dreamy pleasure that is only familiar to Aaron because he’s spent so long looking at those fucking photographs.

“Oh my god, that’s it. That’s your bedroom eye look. Kevin- was that your actual sex face?”

“Huh?”

“The expression you’re making. It was like the day we were doing the underwear shoot.”

“Oh. Whoops.”

“Why the fuck were you making that face on set?”

“I guess… I just liked having you telling me what to do or something,” Kevin says. Aaron presses his face to Kevin’s thigh, suddenly remembering their shoot with fresh context and feeling his face flush. “Hey, you asked.”

“I did,” Aaron agrees. He shifts back and looks at Kevin’s erection thoughtfully, giving it a few strokes as he psyches himself up.

“If you keep your hand around the bottom for your first time, it’s a little easier,” Kevin says, watching him with hooded eyes. “And honestly, I’m pretty far gone from everything already. This is not gonna be hard for you.”

“Feels pretty hard,” Aaron says, smirking, and Kevin snorts a laugh. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Oh, you know, any time- _ah._ ” Kevin gasps when Aaron first draws his tongue along him, hands scrabbling against the door for purchase. Aaron takes one of them in his own, and Kevin squeezes firmly. His other hand goes to Aaron’s hair, but instead of gripping, he just pets along his scalp. Aaron’s lashes flutter, and he slowly takes Kevin in his mouth. 

He focuses on breathing through his nose as he gets used to the feel of Kevin on his tongue, the shape and weight of him, of navigating his way down without catching his teeth around Kevin. Kevin glances down at him and moans raggedly at the sight alone. Aaron blinks up at him, then draws back, trailing his tongue flat and broad along the underside of Kevin’s cock.

“Fuck,” Kevin says, and Aaron feels a little more confident.

He suckles on the head, then takes more of it again, bobbing his head, hollowing his cheeks. He gets into a rhythm and starts to shift his hand to match, Kevin’s litany of swears above his head encouraging him. 

“Aaron, I’m getting close,” Kevin warns, but Aaron doesn’t stop. If Kevin can swallow he can totally swallow too, like, how hard can it be? Then Kevin’s fingers are tightening in his hair, grasping but still not pulling, and his thigh is trembling against Aaron’s forearm. He squeezes the hand in his in quick pulses, and then he’s coming with a broken moan, sudden and bitter on Aaron’s tongue. He coughs a little, surprised, but swallows most of it. Kevin’s thumb swipes a dribble of come from the corner of Aaron’s mouth, and Aaron licks it without thinking.

“Oh my god,” Kevin says. “You.”

“Me?”

“You,” he says, decidedly. He does his jeans up before sliding down the door, pulling Aaron in for a kiss, all slow and lazy now they’ve both come. 

They sit for a while, exchanging lazy kisses and holding hands, before heading back out. Aaron drops the key on the bar and gives Roland a solid glare not to comment, but he has a feeling from the way Andrew quirks an eyebrow at him, it’s already too late. Roland grins and sets two drinks on the bar for them. 

“Guessing you probably need these.”

“I said not a word, Roland.” 

Roland holds his hands up in silent surrender, but he’s snickering as he turns away. Aaron grumbles a little, but Kevin’s hand light and warm on his low back soothes him. He tilts his head back and smiles up at him. 

“Where did you get to?” Jeremy says, bouncing up to them, flushed and sweaty.

“To get some air,” Kevin says innocently. Aaron catches his eye and smirks. 

“Well you owe me like ten dances. Ah. I don’t care that you ‘don’t dance’. We all know that’s a lie, it’s just a question of how many drinks. You disappeared, so now you owe me. That’s both of you,” Jeremy says, grabbing Aaron’s wrist as well as Kevin’s. Which is how Aaron ends up trapped between Jeremy and Kevin in the middle of the crowd feeling like some gay wet dream early 2000s music video remake. 

Jeremy looks so happy and carefree bouncing beneath the lights, and Kevin’s hands are on Aaron’s hips, his waist, his biceps. He feels warm and happy and loose, and so when one of the other models hands him a shot, he doesn’t even think before downing it. 

“Bathroom break,” Aaron says, feeling a little queasy. Probably dehydrated. He tugs Kevin down and kisses the corner of his mouth before he slips through the crowd towards the back corridor, leaving Kevin to deal with the excited gasp he hears from Jeremy.

He recognises the familiar sensation of drugs before he even gets out of the crowd. The slow warmth bleeding through him. The feel of cotton wool in his skull. The tingling numbness of his limbs. Panic tries to kick in through the buzz, because he knows he _shouldn’t_ be feeling it. He staggers, hand against the cold of the wall, but then someone’s got an arm around him like they’re just helping him walk, and he’s being forced out a side door. The cool night air hits his skin like a million little needle pricks. Aaron tries to reel back from it, but the hands on his shoulders hold him firm.

Then there’s Riko, leaning against the wall of the side alley, casually smoking. He has an impressive black eye, and even through the nausea, Aaron feels a curl of vicious satisfaction. He kicks off the wall and steps closer to Aaron. Without warning, he twists his hand around and presses the lit end of the cigarette into Aaron’s arm. Aaron tries to jerk back, but it feels like he’s moving through water. Less aware of the pain of the burn than the trigger of the action; the reminder that Tilda had done this to him many times before, small scars hidden among his freckles.

“I told you you’d regret it,” Riko says, and Aaron wants to say something back, but his tongue feels frozen, throat feels thick, head is spinning.

Then he’s falling sideways. He doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

*

Aaron wakes up in a room he doesn’t recognise, bound to a chair. He tugs at his wrists, testing, but the ropes hold firm. His ankles are the same. He’s gagged, and his head throbs worse than any hangover. He takes a few desperate, panicked breaths through his nose, and then he starts to struggle again. It does little more than give him rope burns. 

He feels like he’s going to throw up. He can feel the acid burn in the back of his throat, the slight heaving catch of his breath, but he knows if he throws up it’s going to be trapped in his mouth. Maybe make him puke again. Maybe choke him. So he focuses on breathing through his nose, focuses on pacing himself slowly, focuses on anything but the rising anxiety that's tightening his chest. Adrenaline has his pulse beating a staccato rhythm. 

He feels like he’s in the room for a long time. There’s no clock, so it’s hard to tell. There’s not much of anything. A few chairs and a low table off to one side. There are no windows. It looks like the inside of a storage unit. 

Aaron tries to get his wrists free, but the ropes are viciously tight, and he’s just starting to lose the feeling in his hands. He strains his ears, listening for any sound, and he feels so small and young again, feels like the terrified child sitting in a silent house waiting for the next slam of the door, the next smashed plate, the next thundering steps up the stairs. He exhales in a painful, sharp rush, clenching eyes shut against the memories.

Can’t think of that now. There’s little else to think about. He’s pretty sure leaving him to stir in the anticipation is part of it. 

He’s actually starting to drift off when someone finally arrives. His body is exhausted from being in such a heightened state of fight or flight that it’s starting to shut down to spare him, his head drooping against his shoulder, when the door opens with a painful creak of metal. Riko steps in, dressed all in black. He’s got a sports bag with him and when he tosses it on the table Aaron can hear the rattle of metal in it.

“Aaron Minyard,” he says, slow, and Aaron glares at the sound of his name in that mouth. “You should have minded your own business, Aaron.”

Aaron says something, but it’s just muffled nonsense behind the gag.

“No. You had your time to talk. Your little hero moment. This is my time now. Don’t worry, you’ll be grateful for the gag, once we start. As amusing as it would be for me to hear you beg like a little bitch, I’m sure it would be quite devastating for you.” 

Aaron wishes he would just fucking stab him and get it over with rather than making him endure the bull shit Disney villain monologue. He rolls his eyes, the most exaggerated movement he can do, and then suddenly his vision whites out as Riko slaps him hard across the face. Aaron blinks hard, trying to rid himself of the white spots. 

“Enjoy your bravado while you can. It won’t last. You know, Kevin used to try to be brave, too. He used to try not to cry, but he always did, in the end. He made the prettiest sounds, crying and screaming and begging me. Oh, if you’d heard the things he promised me, promised he’d do if I made it stop.”

Aaron struggles with such renewed vigour against his bindings he comes pretty close to dislocating his shoulder, if the sharp pain in it is anything to go by. He wants to hit Riko again. He wants to hit him repeatedly this time, to not stop until his face is nothing but pulp beneath his knuckles. The anger burns through him like a physical, blazing heat. 

“You see, Kevin might have got his cute little tattoo, but he is still covered in my marks, and I have staked my claim right in the core of him, deep down where you can’t see. And the thing is, I don’t like to share.” Riko grabs Aaron’s jaw, his fingers digging fiercely into his cheeks. It hurts, but Aaron steels himself against it. He is no stranger to pain. “He might be brave for himself, but if his disobedience starts to have collateral damage, well, he might be a little more agreeable, don’t you think?”

Aaron glares at him, his whole body a thrumming live wire of hate. Riko laughs. He squeezes even harder, nails leaving crescent moon shapes in Aaron’s skin, and for a moment he’s convinced Riko is trying to break his jawbone. Then he lets go, but the imprint of pain stays on Aaron’s skin.

Riko opens his bag and pulls out a knife. It’s not a particularly large one, maybe a little bigger than the ones Andrew has stored in his armbands, but it gleams beneath the light cast by the dim, bare bulb. It looks sharp. Aaron swallows when Riko isn’t looking at him. His pulse roaring loud enough to be heard in his ears. 

Aaron’s eyes follow Riko as he steps closer with the blade. He pulls Aaron’s shirt away from his skin, and with a seemingly effortless movement that shows just how sharp the knife is, cuts a line right down the front of it, baring Aaron’s chest, heaving with panic breaths even as he tells himself to calm down. 

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Riko says, resting the flat of the blade against Aaron’s collarbone. He meets Aaron’s eyes, and smirks slowly. Then he turns the knife so the sharpness is to Aaron’s skin and very slowly drags it from his shoulder in a long line down his chest.

Aaron thought he was ready. Aaron thought he had experienced pain before. Any memories of what that pain might have been like leave him in a rush of white hot agony. He closes his eyes in spite of himself, expression scrunching tight with pain, biting down hard around the gag in an effort not to make a noise, but a choked sob escapes all the same. Riko laughs. He pauses, and presses the point of the blade firmer at the end of the gash he’s made. Aaron’s vision goes white and foggy again.

“Not bad,” Riko says. He sounds bored, but he’s grinning now. He holds the knife up so Aaron can see the thin hint of red along the edge of it. The stain of his blood. “But I think we can do better.”

The next one is a fast gash, Riko slashing through the air and across his chest, too quick for Aaron to brace for. He’s unprepared, and the pain takes the air from him in a ragged, pained cry. Riko grins, fisting his hand in Aaron’s hair and yanking his head back.

“That was better,” he says, pressing the flat of the blade to Aaron’s cheek and wiping his own blood off on his face. “I don’t think it will take much to break you at all.”

Aaron is breathing too fast, not able to get enough air in, his mouth dry, fabric on his tongue, choking him, pulling deeper into his mouth with every desperate inhale. It hurts. It hurts so much he can barely think of anything else, and yet he does, distantly. Thinks of Kevin and Jean enduring this before, and then, so unexpected it throws him off kilter for a moment, of Andrew doing this _to himself_. Aaron dry heaves against the gag.

“Careful. If you throw up, you might choke on it,” Riko says, which Aaron already knows, of course. Riko tugs his hair fiercely again and tears prick the corner of his eyes. Please. Don’t let him cry. Anything else but that, don’t let him cry, don’t give Riko the fucking satisfaction. 

He feels a chill start to set in, and thinks maybe he’s going into shock. Then Riko’s blade is at his chest again, carving a slow, deep line over his heart space. Aaron can feel his blood, sticky and warm as it trickles from the wound. His head spins, the nausea worsening. Riko steps away, and Aaron takes a few hard, harsh breaths through his nose before Riko comes into his line of vision holding a small glass bottle, round at the bottom. He tips it over Aaron’s chest.

The strong scent of vinegar hits his nose just a second before it splashes against his skin, burns into the open wounds, and at this Aaron finally does scream. A long, brutal sound, pulled from his lungs, muffled by the gag. The stinging is worse than the initial slices. It’s worse than anything he can remember.

He stops screaming, eventually, but he is crying now. He doesn’t remember starting. He’s soaked in cold sweat, the torn halves of his shirt clinging to his torso. Tears streak down his cheeks and soak into his gag.

“I hope you’re not too tired, Minyard. I’m only getting started.” This time Riko’s blade presses to the soft skin of his stomach. Aaron tries to draw away from it instinctively, but there’s nowhere to go. He’s completely lost the feeling in his lower arms now. He shudders with a weak cry as Riko drags the blade across half his stomach, nearly too exhausted to even react now. 

He almost doesn’t hear the sirens over his own small sounds of pain, the ringing in his head, the rush of his blood in his ears. It’s Riko that pauses first, looking towards the door, waiting for the sounds to pass. They don’t. They get closer. 

He steps towards the door to steal a glance, but then there’s raised voices, yelled commands, flashing lights. Aaron is only dimly aware of it, his consciousness flagging, threatening to drop off. There’s a scuffle, and then an officer in the door, gun raised. He lowers it when he sees Aaron’s bleeding frame.

“Oh, Jesus, son, are you alright?”

Aaron can barely lift his head, let alone respond. More officers come into the room. He’s untied and propped up. Someone dabs at the blood and he hisses, struggles to shift away but doesn’t have the energy. It takes three of them to help him outside, and he hears Andrew before he sees him. Violent swearing, more feeling in his voice than he’s used to hearing, but Aaron would know it anywhere.

When he does spot him he’s on the sidewalk some ways apart from the police vehicles. Kevin, Roland, and bizarrely, Renee, Andrew’s sparring partner from the gym, are all holding him back as he fights to get to the car now holding Riko. Even with the three of them, it looks like a struggle.

Then Andrew’s eyes flick up and meet Aaron’s. The fire goes out of him for two seconds, before he’s pushing against them with even more aggression, but this time his aim is for Aaron. Aaron doesn’t know if Andrew breaks free or they let him go, but it’s only a few seconds until Andrew is in front of him. He grabs Aaron’s jaw painfully, fingers pressing in the tender areas where Riko’s have already been. Aaron flinches but doesn’t pull away. He knows Andrew’s hurt isn’t intentional. It’s badly communicated concern.

“You fucking idiot,” Andrew says. “I hate you.”

“I know,” Aaron rasps, his throat raw and dry. He forces his heavy eyes open to meet Andrew’s gaze, and barely recognises the eyes staring back at him. A level of emotion he didn’t know Andrew was capable of showing through the meds. “Andrew. Your meds-“

“Shut up,” Andrew says, the waver in his voice betraying Aaron’s suspicions. He’s too exhausted to argue back, and Andrew is too fierce to be driven away when the officers try to get him to give space. He stays stuck to Aaron’s side as they prop him in an ambulance and wrap a shock blanket around him, clutching the edge of Aaron’s ripped shirt in a white knuckled grip. 

*

Aaron ends up needing stitches on the three slow gashes. He’s groggy from anesthesia when he’s finally delivered back to a ward, and the waiting room is full. Andrew, Kevin, Jeremy, Jean, Roland, and Renee. Most of them are there for moral support, and once they see Aaron is alright, they back off to let him rest. Only Andrew and Kevin stay. 

Andrew sits, sullen and silent, glaring over him like a watchful guardian. He looks pale and queasy.

“Take your fuckin’ meds,” Aaron rasps, his throat still aching.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re gonna be nauseous all night, and for what?”

Andrew glares at him. Aaron sighs.

“No one’s gonna get me in the hospital, Andrew. Just. Take them.” The _please_ is unspoken, but implied. Andrew scowls, but Aaron can see the sick twist of his mouth. He scrapes his chair back and storms out of the room. Aaron looks to Kevin, curled in on himself, hands trembling. His left eye has been healing up, but now there’s a fresh bruise around his right.

“What happened your other eye?”

“Huh? Oh. Andrew hit me.”

“He _what_?”

“It’s fine. I deserved it. This was my fault.”

“Kevin. This wasn’t your fault. Riko did this, not you.”

“He only came after you because of me.”

“He came after me because he’s a twisted fuck. Hey. I’m the injured one, so you have to listen to me. This isn’t your fault.”

Kevin sniffs.

“And please don’t encourage Andrew in thinking his violence is justified. He has enough of a problem with that.”

Kevin looks down at his own shaky hands. Aaron turns his over on the bed. He looks paler than usual from the blood loss, the blue of his veins starkly visible beneath his skin. The IV drip in the back of his hand is chunky and ugly, but he flexes his fingers for Kevin anyway; and after a moment Kevin takes his hand. So gently. Like he’s afraid he’s only going to hurt Aaron more.

“I’m here,” Aaron says, almost as much for himself as for Kevin. “I’m okay.”

*

He sleeps on and off through the night. Sometimes stirring when nurses come to check his drip or give him fluids. Andrew sits curled in a chair by his bed, watching Aaron like he’s afraid he might disappear. Kevin is on his other side, sometimes rubbing his thumb in circles against Aaron’s hand, other times sleeping on his folded arms at the edge of Aaron’s bed. It can’t be comfortable. When Aaron wakes to find him like this the first time, he gently pushes his fingers into Kevin’s hair and lets them rest on the curve of his skull. 

*

Andrew is looking more blank and less queasy when Aaron wakes and there’s morning light coming through the window. He gives him a tired smile, and Andrew stares back, unimpressed. 

“You shouldn’t have hit Kevin.”

“He’s lucky that’s all I did.”

“This wasn’t his fault.”

“He was kind of a big factor.”

“Andrew.”

“I let him stay, didn't I?”

Aaron looks at Kevin’s sleeping form, his cheek smushed against his own forearm, and gently pets his head. Andrew did. That’s not much, from most people, but after all he went through with Katelyn, Aaron knows that’s Andrew giving in with very little fight. He’d still prefer no fight at all, but it’s a step forward.

“Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t if he doesn’t give me a reason to.”

“You make up reasons.”

Andrew doesn’t answer him, folding his arms across his chest and staring him down blankly. There’s a time Aaron would have weakened beneath that gaze. Now he just sends his own bitch face back, until footsteps come speeding down the ward and Katelyn appears around his curtain.

“Oh, Aaron,” she says, and at the sight of him her eyes threaten tears. Andrew scowls.

“Why are you here?”

“Nicky told me. As you _should_ have. Jesus, Andrew, this is something you should have told me.”

“I’ve mostly been out all night,” Aaron says, intercepting a fight before it has a chance to break out. Andrew’s unwarranted hatred of Katelyn only eased fractionally when they stopped dating.

“How are you?” She asks, concern in her eyes, stepping right past Andrew and stroking Aaron’s cheek. He leans into the comfort of her touch with closed eyes.

“Well, they’ve got me on the good stuff at the moment, so I’m not feeling much. It’s just some stitches. I’ll be okay.”

“Just some- Aaron.” She rolls her eyes, disbelieving. At all the sound, Kevin stirs at Aaron’s other side. He blinks awake, looking first to Aaron, with a soft smile, then to Katelyn, with his brow furrowed in confusion. 

“This is Katelyn,” Aaron explains. “Katelyn, this is Kevin.”

“Hi, Kevin. Under different circumstances it would be nice to meet you.”

“Yeah,” Kevin says, his voice hoarse from sleep. Andrew makes a vague disgusted noise and stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He storms around the curtain and off down the ward. 

“Melodramatic as always,” Katelyn says, pulling Andrew’s chair closer so she can use it for herself. She takes Aaron’s other hand, gently brushing her thumb along the knuckles. “You look awful.”

“Thanks.” Aaron manages a weak smile, and Katelyn manages one back, unshed tears still shining in her eyes. “What happened?”

“I don’t really know, besides getting sliced up with a knife. I don’t remember much before that.”

“It was one of the other models,” Kevin says, his voice low. “Johnson. He was connected to Riko. He must have drugged your drink.”

“Yeah, I remember someone pushing me out into the alley, but… how’d you guys find me?”

“Andrew checked the CCTV footage when you didn’t show up again. Saw the guy that had taken you out. He was still hanging around, trying to play innocent I guess. That was his mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Andrew beat the shit out of him until he talked, and would probably have kept going if the bartender guy… Uh, I forget his name.”

“Roland.”

“Right. If Roland hadn’t stopped him. So I called ahead to the police, and I don’t know who told the girl, uh, with the white hair?”

“Renee.”

“Right. Lot of Rs. Uh. Anyway. She showed up, calmed Andrew down a bit. We got there just after the police. Just as they were bringing Riko out.”

“Another R,” Katelyn says, sounding numb, and Aaron, morphine giddy, giggles. They both look at him with weak smiles.

“And Andrew tried to go for him, but, I mean, there was police everywhere. He’d have got in shit, so-“

“You guys held him. I saw that bit.”

“Until they brought you out. I don’t think any force on earth could have held him back then.”

Aaron sniffs quietly. His heart rate monitor goes _beep beep beep_ a little faster, betraying his rush of emotion. He knows, in his own fucked up, repressed way, that Andrew cares about him, but he rarely sees evidence of it. It makes him feel all blocked up with the desire to cry. 

“I’m so glad you’re alright,” Katelyn says. “Nicky phoned me, frantic. Andrew wasn’t picking up for him. Hadn’t told him much, either. He’ll probably call you today.” 

“Nicky‘s our cousin,” Aaron explains to Kevin, who has been too polite to ask. “He lives in Germany, but he practically raised us for half our teens after our mom died.”

Kevin nods, and Katelyn looks at him across Aaron. Looks at their joined hands. Looks up to Aaron’s face. She tilts her head and widens her eyes. Aaron narrows his eyes slightly and gives his head a minuscule shake. Kevin, catching this unspoken conversation, stands.

“Do you guys want tea or coffee or anything?”

“A tea would be lovely,” Katelyn says.

“Can you bring me something cold back? This water is like room temperature and my throat is killing me.”

“Of course,” Kevin says, giving Aaron’s hand a last soft squeeze before he goes to fetch them drinks.

“Hand holding,” Katelyn says.

“Yes.”

“Is that just post traumatic event hand holding, or-?”

“I don’t know. We kind of talked a bit about it, before everything, but, uh. Didn’t really put a name on it.”

“So what did you say?”

“I just. Told him I liked him, and he said he was gonna ask me out anyway, and then, uh-“

“Aaron, are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

“Aaron, we’ve literally had sex. Multiple times. I should be the one person you can talk to about this.”

“Oh my god. I’m injured. You’re not allowed to bully me.”

“How is this bullying! Did you or didn’t you hook up?”

“We maybe… hooked up a bit… at the club.”

“Oh my _god._ Which bit of you?”

“Katelyn!” Aaron’s heart rate monitor beats even faster. Katelyn glances at it and softens. “Fine. I’m sparing you because you’re in recovery, but I want you to text me the juicy deets later.”

“Perv.”

“I’m also going to let that slide because you’re injured, and I was, honestly, worried sick about you.”

“It looks bad, but once the stitches heal, I’ll be okay. There’s no internal damage or anything.”

“They’re going to scar?”

“Probably. They’ll make me look tough?”

“Definitely,” Katelyn says, with grave seriousness. Aaron smiles. “He’s hotter in person.”

“Katelyn.”

“I’m just saying.” She grins, and Aaron laughs, and then swears when the vibration causes his stitches to ache, and then laughs more, and Katelyn laughs at his struggle, and Kevin comes back to find the two of them struggling and failing not to laugh. 

*

Nicky calls and quizzes him about his injuries, and when Aaron assures him he’ll be okay for the third time, Nicky quizzes him instead about “the tall, dark, handsome man Roland saw you with at the club.”

“I told him to keep his mouth shut.”

“I’m so sad I missed you coming out.”

“I didn’t come out, and Kevin’s non binary,” Aaron says. Kevin smiles tiredly at him from his bedside.

“Pronoun check?”

“He’s fine with he/him.”

“Well it’s still a _queer_ relationship and I still missed it.”

“I’m going to hang up on you now.”

“I’m just saying. Oh my god, we can all go to pride together now.”

“Bye.”

“Aaron, do not hang up this phone.”

Aaron hangs up the phone. Nicky immediately sends a string of angry emoji faces that he ignores.

“You don’t have to correct people, y’know,” Kevin says. “I don’t mind being perceived as male. I appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t bother me.”

“Are you just saying that?”

“Nope. Pinkie promise.” He hooks his pinkie around Aaron’s and squeezes lightly. “You can just introduce me as your boyfriend. I mean… if you, uh. If you wanted to do that.”

“I do,” Aaron says, feeling giddy in a way that has nothing to do with the morphine. Andrew makes loud gagging noises as he comes back from smoking. “If you weren’t eavesdropping, you wouldn’t have overheard that.”

“Do you not want this juice?”

“Bitch, you know I do,” Aaron says, and after staring at him for a moment, Andrew tosses the juice. Kevin’s hand darts out and catches it before it can get anywhere near Aaron’s chest. “Hey, I had it.”

“Didn’t want you to accidentally strain your stitches.”

Andrew makes more gagging noises. Aaron unscrews the cap of his juice and flicks it at his head. It bounces off, falls to the ground, and starts to roll past the confines of his curtain until it hits a Converse sneaker and falls sideways. 

Andrew’s on his feet in a moment and crowding the newcomer, a ginger man Aaron has never seen before.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Despite being a few inches shorter than the other man, Andrew gets right in his face. The man blinks, seemingly unimpressed.

“Neil. I’m dropping Kevin off clean clothes. Now can you evacuate my space, please?”

“Hey, Neil. Thanks for bringing those down,” Kevin says. Andrew looks between the two of them before he slinks back to his chair. Neil lifts the bottle cap and sits it at the bottom of Aaron’s bed. He looks at Aaron. Aaron looks back.

“Sucks about you getting stabbed.”

Kevin puts a hand to his face with a sigh.

“It does,” Aaron agrees. From the corner of his eye, he almost swears he sees a flicker of a smile on Andrew’s face, but it’s gone too quick to be sure. 

“Anyway.” He turns to Kevin and hands a bag across to him. “Here’s your stuff. I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks again, Neil.”

“And, uh. Good luck? With the stab wounds.”

“Thanks?” Aaron and Neil stare at each other for a moment again, before Neil nods. To all of them, he says: “bye”, and then turns and walks off. Aaron notices that Andrew tracks him leaving with his eyes. 

*

They keep him another night for observation, then let him go. Andrew brings him clothes to change into, and Kevin lets him wear one of his hoodies, which drowns him, but is very comfortable, and nicely loose over his stitches. Andrew drives them home, and Aaron sits in the back with Kevin, wincing at each bump vibrating through his torso. 

Just the journey home has him exhausted. He eats, takes some of the pain meds they sent him home with, and is ready to crash out again.

“Do you want me to stay?” 

“Yeah, but lie beside me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ll be okay,” Aaron says, and so Kevin gently eases into the bed beside him. Kevin slips one arm beneath Aaron’s neck and presses his body to Aaron’s side. Aaron takes his other hand in his and holds it loosely. 

“Least we’ll never do worse than our first date,” Aaron says, and Kevin huffs a laugh against his hair.

“Yeah. Only up from here. I fuckin hope.” He presses a kiss to Aaron’s temple, and Aaron closes his eyes. The steady rhythm of Kevin’s breathing guides him to sleep.

*

Nicky arrives the day after Aaron gets discharged, and spends his time fussing over Aaron and asking him about Kevin in equal measures, made worse by the fact Kevin is there for half the quizzing. Kevin has been spending most of his time with Aaron, only leaving for classes or to bring the twins groceries. 

Jean and Jeremy come to visit, with a fruit basket half the size of Aaron. 

“I’m so sorry, Aaron,” Jeremy says, looking like a kicked puppy. “I didn’t realise that Johnson- I feel like I should have known, somehow.”

“You couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.”

Jean gives Aaron a long look of solidarity, then gently guides the conversation on to something else so Jeremy doesn’t fall into a guilt spiral. Aaron is very grateful for Jean.

Katelyn brings movie night to him, and Aaron hobbles out to sit tenderly on the couch, pressed between Katelyn and Kevin. Nicky sits near his legs on one of the beanbags, and even Andrew joins them, silently curled up in the other beanbag. It’s one of the best nights Aaron’s had in a long time.

“I should get stabbed more often, if it makes you all get along,” Aaron says.

“Fuck off,” says Andrew, because he is usually the one causing friction. 

“I’d prefer you never get stabbed again,” Nicky says.

“Seconded,” Katelyn says.

“Thirded,” Kevin says.

Andrew doesn’t say anything, but he sends Aaron a side glance that says enough.

*

A week and a bedside table covered with “get well soon” cards after the hospital, Aaron’s up and about again. Still a little tender, but well on his way to normal. He’s had to deal with police questioning twice, which is a headache, and the likelihood he’ll have to give evidence in court, which is an anxiety stomach ache, but one for future Aaron to deal with.

“Are you sure a walk’s a good idea?”

“I need to get out. I’m going stir crazy.”

“Okay.” Kevin offers Aaron his hand as they step out, and Aaron squeezes it between his own. 

They just go to the local park. Aaron brings his camera and snaps the odd shot; a cluster of flowers, a brightly coloured butterfly, a row of ducks swimming across the pond. Kevin gets them ice cream and even eats his without pouring over his calorie count first, which has Aaron buzzing with a quiet pride. They’re both a little beaten and battered, as far as people go, a little worn down by the world, but he thinks they might be able to help build each other up again.

Aaron asks Kevin about college, and while he’s caught up in a lengthy rant, eyes bright and mouth stretched in that excited passion Aaron loves, he sneaks his camera up and takes a shot of him. Not the model cover, but the Kevin hidden under layers, the Kevin he's slowly finding more and more of. The Kevin he's looking close enough to see.

“Hey,” Kevin says, catching sight of Aaron lowering his camera. “You sneaking paparazzi shots of me?”

“Oh, definitely,” Aaron says, smirking. Kevin leans back with an easy smile and loops an arm around Aaron’s shoulders, leaning closer to him.

“How’d I look?”

Aaron turns the camera so they can both see the viewfinder, and says: “Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have an Andreil focused sequel to this I might write at some point, but right now this has been the bane of my existence for four days and I really need to put it down for a while.


End file.
